Human Child, Cardassian Woman
by Escaping Propriety
Summary: Two names. One is a dead one and one is more than alive. As a child, I was Erica Steele, and now as a woman,I am Uleni Yaval. I have been her for five years now, yet Cardassia asks me to be Erica again. Who will I be when this war is over? Erica or Uleni?
1. Five Years Ago

**Chapter 1**

**Five Years Ago…**

I was 13 years old when my father and I moved to the Cardassian side of the demilitarized zone on Zestas 3. He wanted to try a new kind of life, so I gave in to his childish hope and agreed to try it. I didn't feel right about leaving the colony of Rheas, near the Klingon home world, because of the comfortable life that we already had.

My father, Travis Steele, was a trader of practically anything except those of illegal means; at least, that is what he would tell me. I never believed him on those late nights when he would come home smelling of synth-ale and Firengi snuff, Father was not inebriated but he wasn't being honest with me. That almost bothered me more than anything did, I used to think that I had his trust but at that time, I assumed that we could handle whatever came our way.

The first five months on Zestas 3 were not that bad. I was attending school with the Cardassian children because Father felt that I would learn more among them then I ever would be with the human children. I easily made friends with two brothers, Tavek and Revin. They were both Cardassian boys whom had been impressed by my self-defense skills with a knife. They did not realize that I had studied with several masters of Klingon martial arts when I was on Rheas. The human educational system didn't compare to Cardassian education when it came to dealing with those physical aspects; I learned that as time went by.

Those months were easy because my father had established himself as an honest trader between the Cardassians and the Federation citizens but eventually, the Federation settlers became dissatisfied with Cardassian military policy. Father and I were caught in the middle of the whole thing. The settlers looked down on me because of the Cardassians that I went to school with, and the fact that I had bore no ill will towards the Cardassians, I saw them as my friends.

Then everything went wrong. Nearly ten months after we had settled, our house was attacked. We never saw them coming until it was too late. My father had tried to get me to run away but I wouldn't leave him. Some of the settlers confronted us outside of our home when we tried to leave that night. They had surrounded the house so that we couldn't escape.

Father asked them to let us go but the settlers were unmovable to his pleas. They formed a circle before they seized both of us, even though they only wanted my father. I didn't know who most of them were but there were a few that I had seen in the towns. Two men came forward, I wouldn't learn their names until years later, they accused my father of siding with the Cardassians and smuggling weapons to them. I knew that my father did smuggle illegal cargo but he was a pacifist and didn't believe in selling weapons. Father didn't even blink when they finished, he just shook his head and stared at the ground. He told them that he had never committed any of those crimes, that he wasn't a part of either side, Maquis or Cardassians, and that they were mistaken.

The men laughed at my father's words. I wasn't scared of them but I was enraged by their treatment of us. I had heard of the Maquis and I had always thought of them as nothing more than terrorists. So, I spat at the nearest one in anger and called him a damned fool. All of them rushed forward to punish me but my father ran in front of me and begged them not to harm me. One of the first two came towards us, he smiled and spoke nicely. He promised my father that I wouldn't be harmed in any way if my father would just admit that he had committed those crimes.

At first, I expected Father to laugh at them and never submit. Then he turned around and looked me in the eye. His expression told me to trust him, his words came out only for my ears; they were said in our native tongue for only us to know, "You are an adult now. I expect you to behave as one. Take care of yourself. You make this heart feel good, daughter," then without stopping, he turned back while mumbling, "It is a good day to die."

I knew then that my father was going to die. No tears came to my eye, only a heaviness hung around my heart as my throat tightened and I waited. It was silent in the night as my father admitted to all of the crimes with an easy lilt in his voice. I could feel the anger and hate that all of them had for my father.

He was a traitor in their eyes and a hero in mine. Without any warning, he was stabbed. The two men that had accused him, automatically stepped forward and they both stabbed him. My father fell back into my arms as I collapsed under his weight, I held him to me and prayed that he wouldn't suffer long.

Those Maquis taunted me as I sat with my father. They laughed at me and ridiculed my lack of despair. They didn't understand the hate that was growing inside of me, perhaps if they had known that one day I would hunt down all of them for what they had done then they wouldn't have acted as they did.

Halfway through the night, they finally left me. They didn't want to be caught by the Cardassian authorities and they felt that threatening me would be enough for my silence. I had them fooled about that by cowering at their cruel words.

Then dawn came. I was still holding him and he was gone, yet my mind was racing at warp speed. What would I do? Where would I go? So many unanswered questions for one so young. The only things that I was certain about was that those men would be punished, that I would somehow destroy the Maquis, and that nothing was going to stop me.

**Please review and let me know what you think...**


	2. Kira Nerys?

**Chapter 2**

**Kira Nerys?**

But that was years ago, five years to be exact. The memories are still fresh in my mind, yet they only come to me when I am being transported to my next mission; as I am now. In three hours, I will begin infiltrating the Federation space station, Deep Space Nine.

After my father's death, I was adopted into Tavek and Revin's family. Their father, Dresik Yaval, was an officer in the Cardassian military posted on Zestas 3 and he was a very good friend of my father's as well. After my father's funeral, Dresik came to offer his condolences and asked me what I wanted to do. I told him of my mission against the Maquis, he became very interested in my idea and told me that if I joined the Cardassian military then I could have my revenge.

So, I did. I accompanied Tavek and Revin when they went to Cardassia Prime for their formal training. Tavek and Revin were stationed on freighters after their basic training but as soon as the military became aware that a human was willing to join them against the Federation and the Maquis, I was placed into a special training program. There was so much training put into these past five years, I believe that if the Obsidian Order were still in power over Central Command than I would probably be one of its most coveted agents.

The Cardassians are not as everyone had tried to convince me of. They are brutal and bloodthirsty, true. However, I have seen them at home away from war and with their own people. They are very reminiscent of my own people whom I believe have thought me to be lost out here in this cold galaxy. Maybe, I'll return to them someday.

"Agent Yaval?"

I come out of my wonderings at the sound of one of the Cardassian soldiers appearing in my rooms, "Yes?" He holds himself straight and although, he is facing me; his eyes are firmly held on the wall behind me, "Gul Dukat would like to speak to you before your departure."

"Of course, thank you."

I follow him out of my quarters and go off towards the captain's quarters on the ship as he heads back to the bridge. My hair is cut to shoulder-length so that I will fit in easier at DS9 but once it had easily hit the back of my knees as my own tradition demands and as Cardassian dress allows. The blue clothes I wear are replicated to mimic the other Federation citizens and as far as I can tell, they certainly are not as comfortable as the Cardassian cut. No physical alterations were performed except for my eyes, at my own request, they were changed to a deep emerald. I had my personal files changed for this small adjustment and the Cardassian Intelligence built me a past that had never happened.

Supposedly, I attended the School of Arts on Earth and was a musician. No children, not married, and I have been traveling the galaxy, only living on my musical skills alone. _A traveling bard_, was what came into my thoughts when I first heard of this ruse but the Cardassians explained that they wanted to make me as non-threatening as possible. Although I know that this only happened because I once shared with Gul Dukat that I had a love of music when I was younger; the arrogant Gul thought that it was a fitting cover for me and obviously, he gets some sort of sick thrill out of making me suffer.

My thoughts occupy me while I find my way through the Cardassian warship then somehow, here I am outside of Gul Dukat's rooms. I wait at the door until I hear his voice from the other side, "Come in."

I stride in with a haughty confidence that usually seems to rise up in me when I have to deal with this certain Cardassian. As usual, Gul Dukat is sitting on one of the many couches in the room with a bottle of kanaar before him and a full glass in his hand. I have never seen him without his armor and today is no different from any other, especially, when that irritatingly charming smile suddenly surfaces to greet me.

"Ah, Agent Yaval. I didn't expect you so soon," At once, with a wave of his hand, he offers me a seat to his right, "Please sit down, we have some time before we meet with the Xepolites who will rendezvous with a Firengi trading ship that will b-"

My temper is running short as I lazily drop onto the spot next to him. I know that he likes the sound of his voice but if possible, Dukat is being more annoying than usual, "I am well aware of the mission outline, Dukat. I was there at Central Command when the orders were first given, and this is not my first mission."

Dukat nods humorously even though I am more than aware that he doesn't enjoy being cut off.

We always rub each other the wrong way but we recognize it and there are times when we get along better than most. As far as I can tell since meeting him, I am one of the few officers who have the endurance to carry out a full conversation with him, "What you can enlighten me on, Dukat, is this 'Major Kira Nerys' that I keep hearing about."

His attitude instantly sputters from staying cool to being mildly surprised. I find myself smiling laughingly at him as he tries to explain, "She is the second in command at Terek Nor. At one time, she was a part of the Bajoran Resistance during the Occupation and now, she is the Major at the station."

"I didn't want to hear a report of her military file," I huff in mock exasperation before raising an eyebrow in mischief, "I want to know who she is to you. From what I hear, you always pay 'special' attention to her whenever you visit the station."

Poking him teasingly on the arm through his armor makes him grab my hand. The Cardassians' bodies are always somewhat colder than myself, I have to brace myself at the cold feel of his skin but I know that I have hit something deep because he isn't immediately flirting with me when my hand is in his. Instead, he turns himself towards me and says slowly, "Leave her alone, Uleni."

Rolling my eyes, I casually reply while trying to twist my hand out of his which he isn't letting go of so easily, "Well, Dukat. Here I thought that you had no heart and what do I find?"

"I am serious," Dukat's voice changes to a deeper focused tone and his eyes have seemed to grow darker somehow, "This is no time for jesting. In fact, that is exactly why I have asked to talk to you, Uleni."

It feels awkward to hear my given name from him but he does appear to be at ease using it. Dukat has my full attention now, yet I am worried about what he is going to ask of me. I calm myself and stop struggling, "Very well, Laqar, why am I here then?"

His mood lightens at the sound of me using his personal name and he finally releases my hand, "I do not wish for anything to happen to her. I understand that your loyalty is first and foremost to Cardassia. Perhaps though as a favor to me, you would consider making sure that Kira doesn't wander into anything that might be too dangerous."

I am trying not to look hesitant but he has to understand, "I can't promise anything. You know as well as I do that there are things which happen in war that we can not always control," his eyes steel themselves on mine and I swear that there is something like desperation in his eyes, so much that I start to reconsider, "However, I can try to keep an eye on the Major but I have a question."

Dukat begins smiling so much that I feel the nerve to slap his smug smile right off. I am very serious about my question and his only response is, "Very well, Uleni. Ask this important question."

"Do you love her, Dukat?"

He stops smiling again and I can see the inner turmoil working its way in his mind. Dukat turns away from me to stare at the wall. I look down at my own hands and wait for him to come up with some sort of lame comeback.

I don't have to wait too long for him to say apathetically, "We have a complicated relationship."

"So, you don't know what you feel for her because she never reciprocates anything but obviously, you feel more than you can control or else," I take a breath to finish my examination of the situation, "You probably would have let her go a long time ago."

"That isn't what I said."

I look up from my hands to his current appalled expression, "But you didn't say yes or no. Which means that either you don't know yourself or you're in denial. It doesn't make a difference but don't expect me to help you woo her or anything like that."

The amused Cardassian knows that I am joking and I believe he is grateful. I can tell by the way that he lets his shoulders relax and especially, when he starts to tease me, "We have awhile until we get to the meeting point. Any special thoughts on how to pass the time?"

He lays his hand just above my knee then leans in and gives it a squeeze. I roll my eyes and state sharply, "You're concerned about another woman and yet, you won't keep your hands to yourself? I certainly expect too much of you, Dukat."

Suddenly, I slip my earring off and stab into his hand with delight. Dukat jumps back wincing, which allows an opportunity for me to scramble off of the couch and make my way to the door upon which I quickly say good-bye before walking out.


	3. Am I Still Human?

Chapter Three

Am I Still Human?

I can't stop staring at myself in the mirror. It is a small compact that I had replicated to make sure that I looked appropriate. I never really had any vanity but now I feel so foreign.

I am a Native American by human standards. Yet, my eyes are not their usual black, like my newly cut hair which was always at least past the small of my back. My lips are full, I had always felt that they were too big for my face but it is my whole appearance that stuns me. My high cheekbones are smeared with some blush and my ears are pierced by silver hoops. I was trying to make my appearance more noticeable because of the role that I am going to be playing. Still, it doesn't feel like me. Perhaps, I am so used to wearing Cardassian dress that I have forgotten how to appear as a human being.

The idea of being around humans again is another dilemma for myself. Although, this is not my first mission as I constantly have to remind Dukat. I am only eighteen but by the age of fifteen, I was a recognized adult on Cardassia. Because of that, I was given my first mission as soon as my adult status was known.

The first mission marked my career as a spy and assassin. Central Command gave me a false name and disguised me as a Bajoran to gather information on the Maquis. I was sent back to Zestas 3 for field work but eventually, I found them; the men who had killed my father. It was not part of my mission and I kept trying to keep my mind on the plan. Nevertheless, as soon as I had the chance, I did it. I assassinated all of those men, and by the time I was called back, the Maquis casualties were up to thirteen.

Central Command would probably have thrown me out of the military for my misbehavior but since all of the victims were Maquis, they didn't care. I was amazed at how hollow I felt afterwards, I wasn't saddened or regretful but it made me realize that I had grown quite well into this career. I was a killer and I had no guilt over the people who unfortunately have crossed my path.

Maybe that is the cause of my worries about being among the humans. I don't want to hurt anyone but I can't say that I care anymore. _Well, my conscience will have to wait_, I think while I close the compact mirror and began to straighten my clothes.

"Dukat to Yaval."

Dukat's voice booms through my quarters and makes me freeze at the unexpectedness of the noise even though my voice pulls through, "Yaval here."

"Agent, the Xepolites are here."

I slip my bag over my shoulder before I take a quick look around to make sure that I didn't forget anything, "Very well. You may beam me aboard, Gul Dukat."

"Very good, Agent Yaval. Remember what we discussed. Dukat out."

My teeth bite down on my tongue in impatience until I start to feel that sudden rush of the transport system. As a habit, I close my eyes and brace myself for whatever is to come next. The only sound I can hear is that noise of my particles being separated and sent off into space. It makes me wonder if this mission will be the death of me or that small bit of my humanity.

)0(

After boarding with the Xepolites, they took me to the Firengi vessel within the hour. At first, the Firengi tried to buy as many sexual favors as possible but once they realized that I might accidentally rupture one of their eardrums during oomox; suddenly, they weren't so interested anymore. After that, they directed me to the Damon's quarters for the rest of my passage and now that I am settled, I realize that ever since I got onto this ship; I haven't seen any of my things.

"Where the hell are my bags?"

The Damon and the rest of crew jump at my sudden outburst as I step back out to the bridge. Quickly, the short Damon starts to mumble, "We put them in my quarters, they should be there."

My mind tells me to hold back my temper. I start biting my lip in thought but something doesn't feel right, "You were paid to take myself along with my luggage to Deep Space Nine."

Unexpectedly, one of the crewmen pipes up, "We felt that because of our unforeseen detour to take you with us, we are owed more than just the minor income."

There is a trick against the Firengi which if used correctly will work in almost any situation and that is "the bigger one wins." I make myself taller and my voice deeper, then turn my attention to the little pustule that had spoken, "I know that I am a mere **female** but believe me when I say that if you do not return my belongings then I am going to leave every single male in this room as only **half** a man," letting my voice become stronger and darker, I continue, "Besides, a deal is a deal is a deal."

They assume that I don't notice the small shivers that run up their spines when I quote the Rules of Acquisition but I do. I can sense that they are frightened by my threat and because I have reminded them of their arrangement, I know they will give me my luggage.

"Now, Damon," I move my line of vision so that I am directly gazing into his eyes, "I would like to have my things."

He doesn't like the way that I am staring so openly. Most Firengis feel uncomfortable when females aren't submissive and he is no different. Licking his lips nervously, he stutters quietly, "They will be in your quarters in a few minutes."

"Thank you."

I smirk as sweetly as possible before I turn my heel towards the bridge exit and gracefully take my leave. As I pace through the Firengi vessel, I decide that I might as well take a nap before we get to DS9. The Damon's quarters come into sight within seconds and I quicken my steps at the thought of a well-deserved nap.

Upon entering the quarters, I see that they did beam my bags into the room. Chuckling wickedly, I observe with interest, "At least, the Firengi know who they shouldn't cross. If only those damn Maquis would learn their lesson."

The proposal of dealing with those blasted terrorists increases my exhaustion. I shrug tiredly then lay down on the long couch in the room. My body's weight reminds me of the stress that I can't get rid of. Muscles start to whine with sudden slight pain and my head begins it's usual throbbing. Even more when my earlier thoughts about my near non-existent humanity strain forth but I catch myself before it becomes too much. I close my eyes and concentrate only on the mission at hand as the Cardassians have taught me. I feel everything begin to lose it's focus; then as usual, I fall deep into sleep.


	4. Be Noticeable

**Chapter 4**

**Be Noticeable**

"Uh."

I know that the Firengi entered the room over thirty seconds ago even before he started to mumble. He is standing over me now and it is very uncomfortable. I can sense that he is looking over my physical form but if he touches me, I will kill him.

"Uh," again, he is hesitating. I wait for him to start the usual groping but no wandering hands have come forth.

I can't hear anymore from him except the sense of his eyes on me. Another ten seconds pass before I deem that it has been more than long enough for him to wake me. Opening my eyes, I see the shock on his piggish orange features and I address him with a businesslike tone, "What is it?"

"Uh," he stands up straight and looks at anywhere else but not directly at me, "Damon Jek would like you to know that we will be arriving on Deep Space Nine in thirty minutes."

"Very well," I begin to lift myself off the couch but my head spins and I desist my actions long enough to say, "Thank you. I would like to prepare myself before we dock."

The chubby Firengi jumps back slightly at the coldness in my voice and then stomps out of the quarters while throwing dark glares my way. It does little to me, I am aware of his hostility but right now, this dizziness has got to go. Making my way towards the replicator, I order, "Computer, a raktajino."

The machine gives a humming noise, then the scent of strong Klingon coffee reaches my nose and already, the headache pain gives way a little bit. I grab the cup, waiting a moment to savor the heat as it creeps up through my hand to my neck, then I cautiously sip from the steaming liquid. The warmth lulls itself down from my mouth to my stomach and instantaneously, the pain in my head subsides.

"Oh, thank the gods for coffee," I murmur as I turn then pause at the sudden sight of myself in the mirror. I didn't realize that Damon Jek had a full length mirror running alongside his replicator but strangely, he does. Scanning myself, I find that there just isn't something right about my reflection. It's myself, I just don't look pleasing to the eye or my eyes, at least.

_What would a musician wear?_

A thought that I have never considered but Cardassian thinking has taught me that one must always be prepared and ready to dirty one's hands. The blue dress that I am wearing is of a navy blue which makes my hair appear to be so dark that it has a bluish tint, an effect that I was shooting for but something still does not look right. I pick at the long sleeves, they are only replicated cotton, yet if I take them off then I will get cold.

_What must change?_

I ask myself quizzically then something that I heard Dukat say returns to my mind, _"If you want their attention then you must be noticed. Sisko will want to believe that you are a truly good human who only wishes to live peacefully. Lt. Dax will want to be entertained. Quark is easy, just look like someone out of Vulcan Love Slave. Major Kira doesn't like politics so do not be too talkative, she will be your friend if you prove yourself to her. The Constable seems to befriend those who have nothing to hide but in control of themselves. As for Garak, I think you know Cardassian men well enough except imagine one with as much wit as a Klingon and as much charm as well."_

Considering those factors, I run my hands over the fabric, "I must be noticed but it can not be overdone. I must be human yet strong. Respectable, fun, beautiful, and everyone's friend," I find the problem with my image while muttering and so I start to rip off the midriff of the dress, "But not everyone likes everyone. That will be the problem but then again, I am not everyone."


	5. I Can Do This

**Chapter 5**

**I Can Do This**

After rearranging the make of my dress, the style became so much more "me." Humans would call this, individuality, but Cardassians would call it, trouble. I firmly believe that the Cardassians are right on this issue. At this moment, the dress shows more skin around my stomach. I have no alien tattoos or piercings but there are scars which I can take care of with a dermal regenerator. Well, they won't be healed but they'll be hidden for now. I trace my midriff carefully with the tool and watch the scars fade. When finished, I eye myself with dislike. My skin color is somewhat dark, always a coffee and cream color. There is no fat around my middle, pure muscle, the Cardassian training programs made sure that any of its operatives could carry at least three times their body weight. Among the Cardassians, I wasn't large because almost all of them were usually much bigger then me but humans are small and thin. I am 5'9 with a 29 inch waist. _Well, they can bloody well bugger off, _I smirk at this comment and look through my bag for the device that Central Command had especially constructed for myself. Eventually, it slips itself into my searching hand.

I examine the holoplayer with a critical eye. It is a lightweight sphere that can project any instrument or holoback-up players that I might need for any of the bigger shows. Gray and round, a child would think that is a simple ball but I know better. One of the aspects that I love about Cardassian design is the simplicity and the elegance, they use in any of their makings.

"Culture, Earth. Artist, Destiny's Child," the ball starts to spin at my words as I finish choosing the song, "Song, Temptation."

It molds itself into something reminiscent of the old Greek lyres. I sit back and strum lazily as the words empty themselves out onto my tongue.

"_I know you see me watching you and I see you watching me cause all you've got is calling, the temptation is killing me,"_ I warm up my voice because once on the station, there will really be no place for me to practice and I only have about ten minutes before the plan must go into action. I stop the strumming and the music ceases; the silence reawakes me to the Cardassian's plans. Central Command has extensively studied the psychology of the Deep Space Nine crew and the rest of their inhabitants so the mission involves that I must establish myself as someone who can be trusted. I must gain the crew's trust and be counted upon as a reliable being. The idea makes me smile mischievously because I know that I am going to crush every single one of them and return Terek Nor to Cardassia as a gift. This is part of my own planning, but for now, I will follow Central Command's orders.

"Human?"

I lift my head up to the Damon's voice over the comm system, "What?"

His voice comes back even more pensive than mine had been, "We are docked. You can leave now."

"Thank you. I will depart immediately."

There is no response but I can imagine that the entire Firengi crew is exhaling a huge sigh of relief. I strap the lyre onto my back and shoulder my other bag with little difficulty. Walking out of the Damon's quarters, I stop for a moment and take a deep breath. _You can do this. They might be humans and treat you as one of their own but, _I close my eyes and concentrate on this single thought, _you are a Cardassian now and no one can change that._

I move on after my breath has been fully exhaled and my heartbeat isn't pounding like a Bolian percussionist. The ship appears to have been cleared for my departure. I stride down the small corridors with my eyes kept straight ahead. By the time, I reach the docking clamps; I had not seen a single Firengi so I assume that they are either on the bridge or already on the station.

The docking door is opened. I see no one going through the gray halls. An unexpected feeling of being comfortable creeps into me as I take in the familiar Cardassian design of the station. Gray carpeted halls that are somewhat cold but if were set to proper Cardassian settings, then it would be nice and warm. Already, I miss Cardassia and it's only been a few hours.

I know the station's blueprints so I step down the hallway that I know will take me to the promenade. A few minutes pass, and ahead, I see the end of my journey.

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	6. Hello Constable

**Chapter 6**

**Hello Constable**

The promenade seems like a far off daunting world from the darkened hallways. I see quite a few people passing by. Humans, Bajoran, Bolian, Algolians, a Firengi, and a somewhat annoyed Bardeezan. Again, I find myself stopping before entering this new phase.

_Quit freezing up. That is how agents get killed, _I scold myself quietly while I lean against the wall, _Just be amazing. It's all an act. A few months here and you can go back to Cardassia and be with your family. _A smile of sadness comes into play as I think of my Cardassian family with Dresik, Tavek and Revin. My father and brothers who know what I am doing and what I have done. Still, they accept me and will welcome me home with open arms.

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

A gruff voice throws me out of my imagined revelries and I look up to who I suppose is Constable Odo. The tan Bajoran uniform appears to be cloth but I've studied his military file enough to know that it's just part of him. However, I let myself appear startled, "Yes?"

"Is there anything wrong?" He asks briskly with his arms crossed tightly against his chest in a sort of protective shield.

I can not tell by his features but the changeling's eyes say that he is quite curious about my being in the hallway, "No. I have just arrived and am actually somewhat lost."

"Well, this is the promenade. This area is mainly shops and traders. Are you planning on staying long?"

My mind urges me to be more confident but not rash. Hesitantly, I step forward, "I am not sure. I am a musician and usually, I only stay anywhere for a few weeks until business gets old," his eyes are scanning me as though I am a troublemaker then an idea springs into my head and I know the exact words that I must say, "But I am just searching for somewhere that feels like home. I am sorry. That sounds quite ridiculous."

The Constable stops eying me so coldly and something like sympathy comes over his features. I expect his voice to be gruff again as he starts to speak but as it comes out, it is softer, "There is no need to apologize and it's not silly. I too am searching for that as well."

"It is always nice to meet someone who understands," I let my eyes look out on the promenade then say hesitantly, "Do you like music?"

I clearly have stunned him because his answer comes out unsteadily, "Well, I like Bajoran music and I have listened to the Vulcan chants but I have-"

He mutters off into silence so I quickly pick up the conversation with a kind smile, "Do you ever listen to Earth music? Aldean? Klingon opera? Or how about Acamarian rhythms?"

"Not much, I am afraid."

"Would you like to?"

Odo starts to question as though we were committing a crime, "Here? Now?"

I swing my instrument to the front and reply in a calm tone, "It is my livelihood but because we share a common bond, I would like to play a song for you."

My manner is very friendly, gentle, and playful. I am making myself this way when what I really want to do is run the other way and never look back but what amazes me is how easy it is.

"You must realize," he is stumbling over his words, "I do not have ears. I can not hear the music."

"Oh," I act as though I did not know this then after going through the action of thinking it over, I exclaim happily, "But you can sense the vibrations, right?"

The Constable nods shyly. He seems afraid that I will show some sort of rejection because of what he can and can not experience or so I imagine.

"That would be nice. To feel the music in the very air," gesturing to the empty space around us, I laugh openly as a child would, "It must be quite an experience to feel it throughout your entire being."

Then I remember the human formalities and I extend my hand to him, "I am Erica Steele by the way."

The openness I show pleases him, I can tell when he gives what I believe is a small smile, "Constable Odo."

"Odo," I repeat firmly then ask through narrowed eyes and an enchanted smile, "You are an officer on the station?"

"That is correct," then the officer gestures for me to walk with him through the promenade and I go forth while listening to him, "I am the head of security and I also overlook the Brig. That is where my office is located as well."

Stepping into the light, my eyes widen at the sight. There are small shops neatly jumbled together and lined down the promenade. The station's lights are so bright, mimicking sunlight. So many species of aliens pass by us and there are even some that I am not familiar with. The stars shine clearly through the large windows to remind us that we are still in space and large ships pass by, just narrowly missing the station's walls. The colors and sounds are so vast in their numbers that I am having a hard time trying to separate them.

"Are you alright?"

I turn to Odo's concerned face and answer excitedly, "Yes. I was just admiring the view."

He tucks his arms behind his form and continues walking while I follow as any predator would trail after prey.

**So, she's met someone from the DS9 crew! Yay! Champagne for everyone....who gives a review!!**


	7. Goodbye Constable, Hello Quark

**Chapter 7**

**Goodbye Constable, Hello Quark**

Our conversation drifts from one subject to another while we walk down the lane. Odo asks about my background, clearly trying to make sure that I am not some raving psychopath, and I tell him the false story that was created for me but there's no point in asking about his own past; he doesn't seem like he would be very comfortable with me asking personal questions. There is often silence between us, I suspect that he doesn't have many conversations with others but I try to keep the flow going. I discover that the changeling, even though he never says this, Odo is actually quite a lonely fellow. He has been away from his people for a long time and like me, he has become a very stern person; it stirs some feeling of compassion from me to him. It is such a foreign emotion for myself that I have to stop our walk for a moment.

"Tell me, Odo," in my pause, I search for an excuse while trying to fight my feelings, "Is this a good place to be?"

I found that he has a trademark "hnnf" sound that he makes when he is either being sarcastic or thinking over things. As for now, the noise is only made for his thinking over my question, "I believe that you would do well on this station."

"Surely?"

"Only if you do not disturb the peace."

"If I do, it is not my intention and perhaps, I should apologize for any future bouts of disturbing the peace," joking smartly, I nudge him with my arm, "Besides, not all music is loud and soul-shaking but quite a bit of it is."

The constable obviously doesn't allow many people to ever touch him. My small movement of friendliness seems to have him nonplussed but not enough for to him to lightly say, "I will try to go easy on you in the future."

_Wow, the changeling is joking with me and Dukat told me that I would never get him to smile. Obviously, that puffed up Gul isn't as funny as he thinks he is, _the words in my mind roll around lazily as we stop in front of his office. Across from it though is the Firengi bar but in order to play my role, I point at the tavern and ask naively, "What is that?"

"The bar is Quark's," grunts Odo in his annoyed tone, "Just another troublemaker on the station."

"Do you know him well?"

"Too well."

Sarcasm runs high in his manner then I decide that this is the time to make my move, "You had mentioned that you could assign me quarters through your office here?"

Confused, he only nods.

"Then to repay your kindness, would you allow me to play for you now?"

He is hesitating again but before he can answer, I lay my bag on the ground and pull my lyre up into playing position. The Constable doesn't try to stop me as I strum a melody out with my voice accompanying it, _"Moving down the streams of fascination. Pulls the fascination in my sleeve, cooling off the fire of my longing. Boiling off my cold within his heat and melting down the walls of inhibition."_

I watch his eyes close at the sound of music. Odo appears to be rooted to the spot by sensations that have apparently enveloped him and he is lost to us. I end the singing, yet keep the song going. The strings pick out a sweet tune, like a slow walk on clear day and there's no worries in the world. Then the chorus comes ever so slowly, _"He's just like the water, I ain't felt this way in years," _subtly, I stop the tune and watch his eyes open to mine in wonder as I finish, _"You're just like the water, I ain't felt this way in years."_

We stare at each other in awe over our shared experience. I sense that I have made him my friend which means that a larger part of the mission is done, it set offs a natural smile and in return, the Constable actually beams back at my feigned innocence.

Clapping comes from behind me. I turn around to spot a Firengi walking towards both of us in a confident strut while shouting, "Very good! Brilliant! Wonderful!"

I know that this is Quark. Supposedly, one of the easier targets to befriend and one of the more pesky ones. Nevertheless, I greet him warmly with, "Thank you."

"Now arrest her, Odo."

Instantaneously, I protest to Odo in anger, "You can't be serious!"

"I am not," he strides past me to deal with Quark in a menacing manner, arms crossed and harsh voice as his armor, "Quark, she has not committed any crimes."

Quark seems flabbergasted that Odo would defend me but the Firengi obviously deals with the Constable quite a bit because he is not intimidated in the least, "Oh, but she has. If you don't believe me than go speak with the cheated Firengi that are sitting at my bar whom were kind enough to allow this human passage on their ship even though she took advantage of them."

"Wait," I hold my hand up for effect and gasp out a small guffaw, "Those Firengi tried to steal my luggage as some sort of bonus to what I was already paying them. That is a crime and they are lucky that I don't report them."

The Firengi bartender eyes me up and down before saying, "Well, that might be possible. Why don't you go speak with them, Odo, and I will stay here and make sure that she doesn't try to escape."

"Yes, Quark, because you are clearly capable of holding down a woman who is at least three inches taller than you and can obviously hold her own against anyone twice her size," mutters the changeling lazily as he strolls away towards Quark's bar.

Quark and I glare at each other or at least, I am the one who's glaring. About ten seconds slink by then he starts speaking while stepping closer, "I am sorry. They did not tell me that they tried to take your luggage."

His game is so transparent that I have to hold back my smirk, "Then perhaps, you should hear both sides before you go around accusing people."

"I will keep that in mind but if you allow me, I would like to make it up to you."

His tone is trying to be appealing, yet I don't know how to deal with this. Cardassians argue when they flirt and Quark's sort of flirting seems too pleasant. Using my instincts, I whisper and lean in, "I am sure that Odo will see this through. No harm done."

While leaning in closely, I focus on his suit. It is a very plain pattern but clearly, it is a very expensive fabric. He sports the average Firengi attire; a shirt underneath a short waist-jacket, and somewhat loose fitting pants. Staring at his clothing, an idea forms in my mind, one that could help me get to one of my other targets.

"I like your jacket," laying my hand on his shoulder, I slide my hand down the sleeve to faintly touch Quark's left hand with mine, "A very fine fabric."

He acts unimpressed by my actions, although, his voice lets me know that he is more than pleased, "Oh, this is nothing. I have better ones."

My eyes widen as I glance down upon him impressively. My height allows me tower over him yet, I bend my knees so that we are almost eye to eye, "Really? Well, a man of your stature doubtlessly wears only the best. I would be very interested in acquiring some fine fabrics."

"And I would be more than happy to help you find some of the most beautiful if not most reasonable fabrics on this side of the quadrant," stammers Quark excitedly at my comment.

_I swear Firengi would marry latinum if they could, _I remark dryly in my mind but inquire out loud with interest, "That would be the ideal way of making up for this unfortunate incident but once I have the fabric then I will need someone to assist me with the design of the clothing. Perhaps, you know someone?"

By this time, I have a hip sticking out in a provocative and one hand is crooked on it while the other is still clutching his hand. The Firengi is mine and I can't even hold back a grin when I hear him respond, "Oh, I know of someone who would be more than happy to help. My own personal tailor, Garak."

**So......review now??**


	8. Too High Of A Price

**Chapter Eight**

**Too High of A Price**

Four days have passed. Two fascinating ones and the others were incredibly boring. Constantly, I have spent my time on the promenade. Playing and cavorting around to whichever style that I happen to be performing; I don't know if I can do this for three more months.

I was able to stand the first two days as a musician but these last two have been so mundane. This is the longest I have gone without an order, a battle, or even decent company. Odo isn't so bad when he stops by but constantly, I am forced to converse with pesky Bajorans and humans. All of them appear so smug that I have to make myself focus on the music or else, I would probably go insane. Not to mention that the only requests I ever get are Bajoran or Bolian; Central Command trained me in as many different cultural sounds as possible and now, I am stuck between only two. I did not train for five straight months to be stuck banging on a drum or strumming out Bajoran temple tunes but every time I try to sing something different; someone interrupts me and pays for a different song.

I know that I am capable of singing. Central Command would have never gave me this role if they hadn't thought that I was capable but the Bajorans are so threatened by any other culture that they have to censor every song. I think that today, I will be a bit more outgoing and draw some attention to myself by playing something a bit more upbeat.

_To hell with the Bajorans._

Yet, I have already met most of the crew. Capt. Sisko, Jadzia Dax, Major Kira, and even a small glimpse of O'Brien walking around with Dr. Bashir. All of them seemed somewhat entertained at the idea of an entertainer on DS9, even Kira whom I expected to be taller and more intimidating. However, there is still one target that I haven't had the pleasure of being acquainted with, Elim Garak.

He is quite the legend at the academy on Cardassian Prime. I have heard that he is the son of Enabran Tain, the former leader of the Obsidian Order, which means that another part of my orders is to pay special attention to Garak; Central Command believes that he is a conspirator against them. Garak also holds the record for having the shortest interrogation time and for being one of the few who were actually able to withstand the entire interrogation process. I only come in second to his name for being an interrogator at the academy but I did pass the through the interrogation process with higher scores than himself. It will surely be an experience, meeting this Cardassian that is rumored to be the best agent that has ever served the Obsidian Order; personally, I will be more than pleased when Central Command asks me to get rid of the fellow and then I will be a legend.

"Computer, a glass of water," striding towards the replicator, I watch the glassed beverage materialize before holding it in both my hands and saying my morning prayer. Despite the fact that I have been living in the Cardassian manner for some time, I still practice this daily ritual with the same rigor. It is a ceremony that was passed from my human family to me and somehow, I've never been able to drop it. One of the last human beliefs that I hold dear to me.

I hear door chime and immediately, I look around my room for any evidence that might rouse suspicions. I am decent, a dark green dress which flows a little past my knees that is held up by a emerald clip over one shoulder and everything else looks in order. Two couches, a table, and the walls are bare. The Cardassian décor makes me feel a little more assured when I say, "Come in."

The doors slide open to reveal a very chirpy Quark who treads forth with open arms intending to hold me, "You look lovely today."

"Don't I always look lovely, Quark?"

I avoid his arms by stepping back to place my cup on the table, "Has my fabric arrived?"

The Firengi saunters towards me and lays his hand a little close to mine, "The Triaxian silk is sitting in the cargo bay as we speak."

Pouting my lips, I give a very Odo-like "hnnf" as I cross my arms, "Four different colors?"

"Yes. A spool of each and with my connections, only five strips each."

"You told me that they would only cost three strips."

"I was only estimating."

My attitude changes into a dark one as I snap, "Clearly! I suppose that by the time I actually have the spools, they will be up to a bar each."

Quark gives me an innocent look as though he had nothing to do with it. Even shrugging his shoulders and pleading with me, "Erica, I tried to tell the dealer that you wouldn't agree to it. I suppose that I will have to send them back and tell him that you weren't interested."

"Yes, you will and you can be guaranteed that I will never consider doing business with you again," I turn around so that my back is to him in anger, "Obviously, you can never trust Firengi. It seems that what all of those Star Fleet officers told me is true."

That had to get to him. Another tip for dealing with Firengi, just claim that all of them are unfair business men, threaten to never do business with them again and they will try to prove you wrong or merely, insult their mothers and then watch them fall apart.

"Now, Erica, there is no need to listen to that distasteful dribble," his insulted tone ensures my victory, "I will have you know that my race is noted for their honesty and wonderful business conduct."

Seizing the moment, I spin back around to see that Quark has too turned his back on me. I put my around his shoulders and gently brush my head against his left lobe. I know the effect that this has on Firengi, a downfall of theirs that if used well, it can get you anything, "I know, Quark. I only said that out of anger but the truth is that I don't have that much latinum to spare."

"I could be persuaded to accept other _payments_. I am not heartless, Erica," whimpers Quark when I lay a finger on the top and slide it down his lobe, "You could have them for three strips each as long as I continue to receive your _business_."

"Ah, Quark," I sigh happily as though he had told me that the Cardassia had now taken over DS9, "The problem with being the recipient of my **business**is that the price is somewhat fatal."

Leaning forward more, I whisper gently, "Are you willing to pay it?"

My arms instinctively tighten around him as a cat's claws would on a struggling mouse. I have lived as the hunter for so long that even now, I feel the need to play with my prey. He does not struggle but he is growing afraid of me or something that I might do, I can't tell except that Quark is frozen in place. The Firengi's only response is, "In that case, I think that I will take your three strips."

He shrugs himself out of my arms and faces me in a more serious fashion. I smile humorously because I have unnerved him and I have won, "Now, what about that tailor?"

Quark murmurs obstinately as though I had cheated him out of everything dear to him, "I have appointment with him today. Afterwards, I will tell him to meet you out on the second level across from my bar. You did mention that you were planning to play there today, didn't you, Erica?"

I nod happily and then assure him that I will be there.

He leaves with a dark cloud hovering over him, so to speak. Quark's mood can't affect me though because I am going to meet Garak today and then someday, I am going to kill him. I laugh carelessly as a song plays through my mind followed by my humming, "_A man on your side, a woman walking by. Oh, someone that you think you can trust is just another way to die."_

The words slither off my tongue and stab in the open air, "_Oh, I am just another way to die."_

**Now, let's "review."**


	9. Two Masters

**Author's note: This is still rated T. So, don't think that it's going to get any further than this. Maybe a few tense moments but other than that I am still writing for an upstanding character and not one who is bed-hopping. Not that kind of story.**

**Chapter 9**

**Two Masters**

Leaning quietly against the rail, I overlook the first level of the promenade with interest. My instrument which I have dubbed "Ella" is currently being used as a guitar, an acoustic six-stringer, yet because not many outside of Earth culture have seen one; I haven't had many requests so it is laying at my feet along with my opened bag.

_Oh, Cardassia, when will I see you again?_

I feel cheated and I hate being this way. Generally, I feel calm and prepared but this situation is full of too many uncertainties. The people here come across as happy, busy, and at ease. I watch the smiling faces and the shine from Bajoran earrings; it's as though they are mocking me. How I despise every single one of them at this moment.

The only comfort I have is that I can not hear them for now. There is a hearing device that was transplanted behind the ossicle in my left ear which allows me to eavesdrop on the certain places that I have touched with A-gel; I can only activate the device if I lean my head to left then I can hear streams of conversation. Central Command was looking for a way that I could listen in on Star Fleet's meetings and at that time, some of the Cardassian scientists were experimenting on a liquid that they had created in mimicry of Odo. The liquid, which is now known as A-gel or aiding gel, reacts the same to sound and visual stimuli but it couldn't change shape as they wished. Therefore, it's being used as a transponder between my hearing device and what is being said around it; all I have to do is wet my finger in the gel and touch any surface to set it up. The gel will appear dried onto the surface then remain as a receiver to the sound waves which means that once I have visited the main parts of the station, I will be able to hear any conversation at anytime.

Now, the hard part was designing something that would allow me to know which location I am hearing from but that is another glitch which Central Command worked out. They decided to install a disk over the lens of my eye that permits me to see the viewpoint from which the gel is sitting. It only works if I close my eyes and roll them forward then the disk is activated. From there, I can sort out which area I am listening to and pick a single one to hear.

So far, I have visited up to five main points. Two in Quark's, one in Sisko's office and one in Odo's office. I have learned quite a bit. More so on the incident with the Maquis a few weeks ago, I didn't realize that Sisko was so against them or that Central Command was smuggling weapons into the demilitarized zone. _Such a shame that Central Command has to sink to that level to deal with those insufferable Maquis_, I snarl in my mind as I switch off the hearing device then I pick up my guitar and decide that perhaps I better get back to work.

No one would guess but choosing a song to perform is challenging. Well, certainly more difficult than choosing the right weapon to kill with or the proper lie to use in tricky situations. There's so much music in the universe that I usually feel somewhat overwhelmed, especially since Garak is scheduled to arrive while I am performing. Most instances, I start with whatever comes to mind and as for now, my voice starts with, _"__Blackbird singing in the dead of night. Take these broken wings and learn to fly, all your life. You were only waiting for this moment to arise."_

It is a very uplifting tune, I didn't realize how much until I started playing along with the guitar. Bajorans pass by with smiles of confusion on the style of song. The Star Fleet officers know this popular Earth tune, they nod appreciatively and even drop some slips into my bag.

As usual, my focus is entirely on what I am doing. I am lost in the sound of this song and the words that I am saying.

_"Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly._

_Into the light of the dark black night._

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night. _

_Take these broken wings and learn to fly, all your life."_

Such a beautiful melody, I am forgetting everything that I am here for. The sound makes the stress slide calmly out of my body and everyone disappears as I hold out the last line, _"You were only waiting for this moment to arise."_

My eyes have glossed over and for a time, there is no one but the music. Just the echo of the ending note as a reminder of peace that I will never have.

"Very fascinating," _that voice, it's Cardassian_. The easy lilt and assured tenor of one. Elegance with careful selection of tone and words, as most of them are very fluent in the art of conversation. My attention comes back to the present and to the Cardassian standing in front of me with a respective expression on his face, "I must say that you are a very exceptional singer."

"You must be Mr. Garak."

"Ah, quite deductive of you but please, my dear, only a simple 'Garak' is necessary. Yet, I assume that being the only Cardassian on the station does make me somewhat known, Ms. Steele."

"And your voice," nervousness runs high in me, and oddly, my stomach feels light with butterflies, "Of course, sounds Cardassian."

Garak's eyes light up with amusement at the comment, "And you would know this from experience?"

The way he says this makes me wonder how well I am sizing up to his standards. I try to smile at his comment even though I find something about this Cardassian very unnerving, "I am a musician, a merchant of sound, and every race has a particular tone to their voices. Especially, Cardassians," the confidence I had is shirking but from what, I can't place it.

Garak's eyes are a steel blue, darker though when not lit up by the light but there is a cunning to them. An old saying that my grandmother once said comes to me, _Never trust blue eyes. People with blue eyes are usually the cruelest people._ I don't believe that I am scared, a little shaky from being surprised by his presence, however I am not frightened or that is what I am trying to convince myself of as I listen to him speak, "A fascinating distinction to note but I expect that it would be something that only a master of your skill would notice."

"Of course," my tone wavers under his flattering manner but I pull my resolve back together, "But as being only a master of this skill, I would need other experts to assist me in other things. Such as yourself, Garak."

"Yes, the Triaxian silk. Quark has explained to me that you need someone to lend a hand with the cutting and sewing."

"And the styling. I hate to mention this but my sense of style can sometimes be questionable if you get my meaning," kneeling down, I start counting the slips in my bag with my guitar slung over my shoulder, "So, I will be relying on your sensibility of fashion. I hope that you won't feel bothered by that."

Even though I am not looking at him, his delight is more than evident in his voice, "Oh, don't feel ashamed, my dear. There are many who would benefit greatly if only they would listen to their tailor's advice."

_Something is very wrong about this, _I can feel it. My insides feel ticklish, my lips have such an urge to smile, and I am so happy; when just a few minutes ago, I was bitter. Now, it's as though someone just announced to me that Cardassia has taken over DS9 and Bajoran music has been banned; I will have to think on this "dementedness" at a later time. Swallowing these strange impulses down, I stand up without realizing that he has stepped nearer and I accidentally step right into his chest, "Oh, I am sorry."

I try to step back but my guitar is already too close to the rail; another step and I will practically fall over the railing. Oddly, Garak doesn't step back. I don't think he has even realized how close I am to falling.

I turn my attention back to him and I see that he's not even looking at me, his eyes are closed as if he is going to say something. I calmly look around us and see people staring with disapproval in their eyes but typically Bajorans. However, I can't focus on them at the moment, not while he is so close to me.

Slightly tipping my head up, I watch for him to take notice of the situation that we are in. He doesn't seem like he is going to at any moment, yet this gives me a chance to closely examine him. An older man, maybe twenty years older or so than myself, with a very astute feel about him. He owns the common facial ridges that mark every Cardassian, thin lips, glossy black hair, and as my eyes sweep down to his neck, it occurs to me why he has paused.

The clues are standing right in front of me, _how could I forget?_

His neck muscles are bulging out because he is trying to control his breathing, neck ridges are flushed in their gray color, and his hands are tightly clenched in concentration. _He must not be wearing a desensitizing cloth. _In my knowledge, most Cardassian men wear a tight thick cloth shirt underneath their clothes so that if the ridges on their chests are accidentally brushed then the stimulation will be minor. However, if they are brushed against without the cloth, the Cardassian men will experience instant sexual provocation.

That is the another reason for the design of the Cardassian armor, to protect from injury but to also help from being caught up in any embarrassing moments. Like the one that I am in now.

_Should I say something or just move?_

I could step to the side but then I might touch Garak again. This wouldn't be a problem if I were shorter or if he were taller but unfortunately, I am only an inch short of him.

"I feel," his voice is cracked and breathy, "that we should go down to my shop and I can start," Garak steps back but his voice is now rattling and his eyes are open yet clouded, "taking measurements."

_I shouldn't go with him. What if he does something? Well, I have dealt with Cardassians but wait….. if he does then I can kill him in self-defense…..this might work out better than I expected._

"I agree. You can lead the way."


	10. Charmed

**Chapter 10**

**Charmed**

Wordlessly, I walk behind him. I had disassembled _Ella _and put it back into my bag, I hear the latinum slips jingling to my steps. Garak isn't going too fast or too slow; you can tell quite a bit about a person by the way they walk.

I have concluded that he is very apprehensive. His steps are assured but there is a lightness to them that concludes Garak is always suspecting trouble. Shoulders are forward when his neck is pointed somewhere else, his usual posturing, then there are his pauses in mid-step.

I was not a favorite among the Bajorans before but they did tolerate me and now, I do not believe that they like me at all. Their stares tell me that they believe I am nothing more than filth. _Who knew that walking closely behind a Cardassian could be so displeasing? _I step closer to Garak in rebellion to their delicate proprieties.

Garak knows that I am behind him. Yet, he has stopped several times in our walk for what I can assess is to make sure that there is no danger before continuing on. I almost let out a huge sigh as we come upon his tailor's shop.

_Thank the gods. Now, I can kill him._

Yet, Garak halts outside the door, "Now, Ms. Steele-"

I quickly point out in correction, "Please, if you are going to simply be 'Garak' then I would like to purely be 'Erica.' I hope that you don't mind."

"As you wish, Erica," is his sharp reply, the Cardassian has become a bit touchy, "The fabrics are already here. They are in the back if you would like to inspect them."

"I would but I believe that you wanted to take measurements?"

I watch his face and think to myself that he looks somewhat terrified but suddenly, he breaks out into a smile, "Oh, yes. Please follow me to the back then."

Entering the shop, I find myself being confronted by a nicely arranged establishment. Garak has his tailor's table in the middle, dressing rooms along the sides, and many of his arrangements on the walls then another doorway at the end of the shop. My hand wanders out to caress the colorful fabrics of the clothes as we pass through the shop, all of his designs are very exceptional. To my eye, creative and quite fashionable.

"Are you coming, my dear?"

I didn't realize that I had discontinued my trailing. My hand drops from the creamy Bajoran cotton shift that I was touching, "Of course. It's just that your shop is very most salient, I find myself wavering between being more than impressed and completely overwhelmed by your talent."

"Such a compliment and you have yet to purchase anything."

Garak seems to be back to his old self, but I feel that now he is even more devious. It is not hostility or anger. He does not make me sense any oncoming violence but underneath the surface, I suspect that he is having more difficulty than usual with controlling himself. His eyes sting my skin with their hidden intentions and again, I feel that flutter of butterflies. Yet, he stands at the open doorway with a innocent expression.

_If I do this right, he will be dead in minutes and will have never suspected that this was coming. One less nuisance to deal with._

I smile coyly and shrug as I walk by him. I didn't lie when I told him that I thought his shop was impressive, it is. It seems to be one of the last places on the station that it is still Cardassian with comfortably dimmed lights and elevated heat.

_I hate to say to this but I almost feel like I am home._

A small hallway takes me to the back where I come upon a room almost as large as the shop; there is labeled drawers on every wall with a large table in the shape of circle surrounding the a round cushioned seat. The room may only be ten feet tall, yet the drawers go all the way to the top. Garak enters and strides over to a drawer on the bottom marked, "Silk."

Garak pulls the drawer open and takes out the four rolls of Triaxian silk. I count the colors in my mind as he sits them on the table, _Burgundy, Emerald, Aqua, and Black. _I don't recall why I chose these particular shades but I am glad that I had chosen simple colors.

"I was surprised to hear that Quark had acquired Triaxian silk but now that I know it is for you," Garak remarks lightly while running his hands over the red fabric, "It is no longer surprising at all."

"I have been searching for Triaxian silk for quite awhile. Quark just happened to owe me a favor."

"How quaint. Would you please stand on that chair then I can begin taking your measurements?"

Nodding tranquilly, I move next to the small chair. Garak offers his hand for assistance and as I touch his skin, I shudder lightly at the cold feel of his palm. Watching his face at my reaction, it seems that he isn't surprised nor hurt. I smile warmly at him for his understanding, I was unsure of how he would take my response.

Releasing my hand as soon as I am balanced on the chair, he turns away to select a measuring instrument from the table. My eyes wander around the room as he begins scanning me from head to toe, "Is there a certain style that you would prefer?"

"No. If truth be told, as long as I am able to move my legs and arms freely then I will be content."

"Versatile and fashionable," muses Garak, I look down to spot him smiling humorously, "I think that I can arrange something to that sort."

I lift my head back up and continue to gaze around the room indifferently. The company of this Cardassian man, whether tailor or spy, is quite comforting. Then without warning, an epiphany strikes me. I think that I have found the problem, Garak is so close to home that I feel some sort of affection for him. That has to be it. I don't believe that I am actually attracted to him for any other reason-

_Oh, damn. That is it. Attraction. To him. Dukat is going to kill me._

Shaking the thought out of my head, it draws his attention without me noticing, "Is something wrong?"

"No," I answer quickly accompanying a smile that is in no way meant to be friendly, "I just feel a little dizzy."

"I am almost finished," drawls Garak, deep in concentration then he steps back with his hand out to me, "That should do it."

Gripping his hand brings that coldness back to my body. I do not shudder. Instinctively, I hold on tighter to his hand, an old trick of coping with discomfort. Stepping down, I try to tread softly and a plot comes to my mind so I fall towards him in fake helplessness.

Garak automatically pulls me towards him to stop my clumsy descent. I somehow end up with his arms clasping my waist and my shoulders are propped against his chest. Sighing in relief of not injuring myself, I let my legs settle under me, "Well, thank you. I didn't think that you would actually catch me."

I regain my footing and touch his arms to release me. A few moments pass and Garak isn't loosening his arms. A tingling of electricity runs through me, bringing an edge of excitement then a moment of panic catches me and I realize that this is the moment of truth; this is my chance.

_Now, he dies._

I turn around in his arms and face my target. This time, those cool Cardassian eyes are wide open and he is gazing intensely at me. Garak's expression is completely focused on me, I am always amazed at how people look at me before I kill them. Some are surprised, some are happy, but when the time comes then they know the truth; the reason for my delight. All of it because of the smile that I wear. A glimmer of triumph and without mercy or guilt; all of that etches itself in my features as I prepare to make my name in Cardassia.

"Either, you are extremely injured, my dear, or my dashingly good looks are leaving you speechless."

Of all the things that he could have said to me and all of the manners that he could have expressed; he had to do this. I have never failed to eliminate a target. I have never been distracted or fooled into letting one go, and none of them have ever thrown me off. But by some sick twist of fate, Elim Garak has killed my intensity with a mere flirtatious phrase and an amused smile. My smile falters as my strength for the kill dies down and I realize that I have been hoodwinked by my own weak human emotions. Humor, guilt, and fondness.

_Just as charming as a Klingon? I agree._


	11. A Dax Conversation

**Chapter 11**

**A "Dax" Conversation**

Walking back to my quarters, I am soused with the feel of people's eyes, mostly Bajorans, driving at me and examining me in curiosity. It isn't surprising. I am stomping, my jaw is set in an annoyed expression and if it isn't obvious enough; _I am very upset._

_ Again, to hell with the Bajorans._

The rest of my visit with Garak could be considered uneventful. As soon as I had recovered from my shock of failing to kill him, the business was resumed and apparently, I should be receiving word of his work in a few weeks. Nothing was amiss. He was polite throughout the entire endeavor, while I was trying not to tackle him to the floor and strangle him in frustration. I couldn't tell, whether or not, he knew my frustration but that little smile and his manner of putting his hands behind his back then leaning in closely were signs that he was mocking me. While, everything he did irritated me to no end. I would want the green silk for a dress and he would disagree by choosing the blue roll. I wanted something short, Garak chose a longer style. Everything he did was in dispute with what I desired. If I didn't know better, I would say that his Cardassian side was flirting with me.

_And damn all Cardassian men. Especially, that one._

The station's interior streams by in a continuous gray blur. I know that I am strolling at a more disturbed pace than usual, arms swinging, and nostrils flaring. Rarely, do I ever allow myself to show this much anger outside of my private quarters.

"Erica!"

I stop and search for the owner of that voice. Their call makes my anger subside somewhat. I know that it is Jadzia Dax. I didn't notice that I was passing by Quark's, she waves at me from a table near the entrance, "Erica! Come have a drink!"

My hands grip themselves in painful fury as I turn back to make up an excuse so that I can continue on my way. Her expression is one of delight at my presence, I am a patron of constant amusement to her. Somehow, she is a rarity among these people, Starfleet and Bajoran. But I am in no mood to ruin someone else's day with my troubles; especially, Jadzia's.

_Is that actually how I feel? She is a target. Nothing more than another obstacle that is in the way. Focus, Uleni, focus._

"Dax," I breathe her name with relief as I sit down in the chair opposite of her, "How are you?"

"My shift is over and I have the next two days to myself," shares Dax happily as she stops to sip what I believe is a Black Hole, "I haven't seen you around your usual spot."

_I was supposed to be killing Garak, _I grumble in my mind though I reply pleasantly, "I was at Garak's to have my measurements taken and to shop."

"Did you find anything that you liked?"

_I would have liked to have that infuriating Cardassian's head on a plate,_ "Not particularly. I only needed to have some fabric cut and styled."

One of the Firengi waiters passes by, I politely stop him to order, "A glass of water, please."

His expression crosses with revulsion and confusion at the blandness of my choice until Dax quips thoughtfully, "Oh, no. Get her some tranya."

Not having the slightest clue of what "tranya" is, I just nod to the waiter without any sign of confusion. He walks away with less distaste for me and Dax does not waste any time, "You seem kind of bothered."

"Me?" I question with amusement. I go silent as my thoughts scream out, _I failed. I have never failed. That man should be dead. Everything was planned. A quick blow to the small bone behind his ear then he would have bled into his brai-_

"What I mean is that you seem very distracted," suggests Dax with a concerned tone, "Usually, you offer to play me something or have some crazy story to tell me about your travels or even-"

Her comments cause me so much concern that I blurt out pathetically, "Am I boring you?"

The pretty Trill smiles at my reaction, "No, but I do like to think of you as a friend. And as a friend, why don't you tell me what's bothering you?"

Listening to her words, I feel hesitation bubbling up in my chest. Her aqua eyes seem friendly enough but everything is telling me not to get too close. Sentiment is a weakness and humans are the biggest victims of it. My mind chides, _I can't tell her the truth, what kind of soldier would I be if I betrayed my orders? But, part of this mission is to gain their trust. Do what you have to, Uleni._

I concentrate on letting myself open up to her. This is in no way an easy feat for me. On Cardassia, I didn't have to worry about emotions or sentiment. As being a Gul, which is a title only used off missions, no one questioned what I was thinking or why I was doing things; although, I believe that no one except Dresik and my brothers actually care.

_What a place they have sent me to._

"Dax," I feel so foolish doing this but these people have such an obsession with sharing personal matters, "Have you ever liked and despised someone at the same time?"

The question makes her smile grow bigger and already, I can see that she thinks of me as a younger sister. Especially, when I hear her next question, "How old are you, Erica?"

"I turn nineteen in three months."

The Firengi waiter pops out of nowhere with a lopsided glass that appears to be filled with a thick mixture of an orange juice. He sets it on the table and storms off to the next table. I pick up the glass and prepare myself to sample it as Dax plays off my answer.

"You're younger that I thought you were. Which you should take as a compliment," elucidates Dax when my face looks at her with confusion, "Usually, I am pretty certain about people so consider yourself special."

"Thank you," a surge of pride at her words catches me off-guard, I take a sip of the tranya to distract myself from these unfamiliar feelings. The tranya's flavor is sweet but there's a certain word that makes me give it a second glance, "Cheerful."

"Isn't it? It was one of Curzon's favorites."

"Hmm, he had great taste."

"He liked to think so. Curzon used to drink tranya when he was bothered, among other things."

"Interesting," I think of any question to lighten the mood, "Where is Kira? I haven't seen her on her usual route in the morning."

Dax's features turn clouded as though there is an internal struggle over the truth. I feel her hesitance but nonetheless, "She's down on Bajor, visiting Bareil."

"Oh, that's nice."

"But back to what you were saying, Erica. You found someone that you like and dislike at the same time?"

"It's more than simply "like" if you get my meaning."

_Should I feel embarrassed? _

She nods empathetically while circling the rim of her drink with her left forefinger, "Interesting. I have always found those relationships to be somewhat enjoyable. Especially, when the "like" and "dislike" come together into passion."

I already know this. I am not some young pup that has barely stumbled out of the litter. A formidable belief on Cardassia is that the stronger your dislike is towards someone, the stronger your passion is towards them.

_These people have so much to learn._

Then I ignore my thoughts and decide that playing naïve could get me somewhere, "Really? I can't tell which is stronger but I feel so alive when I am around him."

"Who is the man in question?"

"Garak."

I didn't expect my riposte to be taken well but the most that I can see from Dax is mild surprise. The corners of her mouth peak and her teeth flash. Again, those bright sapphire orbs attach themselves to mine and her voice rings with friendly caution, "Garak, hmm? He is certainly an interesting character but frankly, Erica, I am a little shocked."

_Aren't we all?_

"I am as well. I mean, Dax," I lean forward to the position of sharing a secret while lowering my voice, "Garak is a Cardassian."

"So?"

Now I am shocked. That isn't the word I expected to hear from her. _Where is the prejudice? The outright display of disgust over a human and a Cardassian? Plus, that Star Fleet self-righteousness about Cardassia. She must not understand or this Trill isn't as sane as she seems._

I must look upset because I feel her hand cover mine and pull me from my mental wonderings, "There isn't anything wrong with you liking Garak and vice-versa. I, for one, have always found interspecies relationships to be very enjoyable."

My jaw starts to drop at her comment so I swallow nervously. My plan is going well enough but my assumptions about her and the others are in serious doubt, "You see nothing wrong with it?"

Dax shakes her head politely while taking a sip from her cup.

She starts to express her feelings about the seemingly plain Cardassian tailor, "Garak, in my opinion, could use someone like you. You're young, lively, and very attractive but I have to say that I don't believe that Garak will be welcome to being pursued; you will have to attract him."

I know I am biting my lip with more intensity than usual, I normally start fidgeting when someone is telling me something that I don't want to hear. Listening to Dax, I know that she is right. I agree with her by concurring, "I believe that I have. We had a moment. I didn't realize that I was interested until he was holding me in his arms."

"He held you?"

I stop biting my lip and share my story about the incident without any mention of my actual feelings during the event. She's listens with great interest then tells me that she has never heard of Garak ever being so flirtatious with his customers. Our conversation turns to strategies for trapping the Cardassian in a romance. My mind is surging with this wealth of information from Dax and in the end, she repeats firmly that she thinks this is a good idea. I finish our small talk with, "I am relieved. I did not know how well you would take this."

"As long as you are sincere and he is sincere, how can I snub the idea? Besides, who can resist a passionate love/hate relationship?"

I nod while beaming falsely and thinking in a precarious way, _These Starfleet are actually more than they seem._


	12. Realizations and Intruders

**Chapter Twelve**

**Realizations and Intruders**

Lying on my bed, my eyes try to close themselves for the night.

_I wish I could but Dukat should be in contact anytime now._

I had handed in my monthly report last week. The reports have grown longer and longer since Sisko made contact with the Jem'Hadar. That must have been a month ago; my birthday was also last month.

Dax, Sisko, and Bashir threw a small party for me at Quark's. I was quite stunned that so many people showed up for it; practically all of the senior officers had shown with their families and as well as Garak_. _I didn't expect him to be there but I would be lying if I said that I wasn't pleased. I like him more than I should allow but it is the same for everyone else.

_And there's the catch._

These past four months have been more confusing than all of my five years on Cardassia. Everyone here is so unpredictable until you know the nature of every single person and even then they can astound with how fast they can change. Sadly, I have found that I am just as they are though. I am a human, I might live and think as a Cardassian but I can not deny anymore that I am human. At first, the idea felt like someone had laid a large burden across my shoulders that I could not shake. I have had to accept the truth that I can not fully comprehend or tolerate the way of humans and so the burden is lightened. I do not try to understand them anymore but I am not abandoning my mission either. I can't, not while I still long for Cardassia and its people. The Cardassians were never this difficult for me to understand, their ways came easy to me but humans and Bajorans can bring on the most agonizing headaches.

But Garak is special. If I was on Earth, I would say that "he takes the cake."

We've had limited contact with each other since the incident in his shop. Garak delivered the clothing with little to no conversation. As for now, a few light discussions on the station's activity and the Federation, not enough to prompt any true friendship. I see it as pleasant conversation, a moment of polite company.

However, I know that he watches me. I know that when I sing, he is there somewhere in the crowd or strolling past. It is not required to see his face, or hear his voice. I know. I could be deemed paranoid or unstable when it comes to him. Everyone else has seen me as no more than another human on the station but my senses tell him that he is curious about me in a way that no one else is.

_After all, kind knows kind. Eventually, he will know and then, one of us will have to answer for what we've done._

Yet, I am not frightened.

Bewildered. Curious about him, myself. Flattered somewhat.

Maybe even drawn to him by some unknown force.

_There's no time to consider what could or should be though. War is coming._

Earlier this week, I watched Sisko as well as all of his crew, along with Odo and Kira, leave for the Gamma Quadrant to meet the "Dominion." They took a new warship called the Defiant, I had already downloaded the station's scans of it by the time, they departed. The weaponry is impressive, I eavesdropped on their plans before they boarded and learned that the Defiant was meant to defend against the Borg. I have written a new report, solely about their mission and the Defiant. Hopefully, when Dukat's transmission comes through then I can hand it to him to send to Central Command.

I lay myself over the edge of the bed. Somehow, whenever I am in this position, my entire body will relax. My back cracks in several places, my ribs strain against my lungs as they empty and fill themselves. Without any control, my eyes shut and roll themselves to the back of my head in relaxation.

_Hmmm, I wouldn't mind a trip to Risa. The warm sun. A soothing soak in the springs. Only eight hours away by freighter. At least, I can go home in a few weeks. Maybe._

Central Command ordered me to stay longer because of Sisko's run-in with the Jem'Hadar and the Dominion. My orders are now to not only watch for Maqui activity but to also observe Starfleet's dealings with the Dominion. So far, Sisko means to show the Dominion that the Federation means no harm but I have a bad feeling that something is going to go wrong.

A chirp sounds out to announce that someone is at the door.

_For heaven's sake, who could that be?_

I roll off the bed in panic. A thump sounds off as I hit the ground then scramble up to send out a message to Dukat so that he doesn't try to contact me while this intruder is here. I speak into the computer, "Gul Dukat, please wait until I contact you. An unexpected visitor has arrived, give me a few moments to take care of it. Do not leave until I have contacted you. I have information on Federation activity concerning the Dominion."

I press a few input keys and send the warning out. I am able to send a few messages out during the month, usually when a Cardassian warship is in range then my reports are sent out as a sonar frequencies; they usually leave a schedule of when the ships are coming and going. It is easier this way, even if Star Fleet does intercept a message, all that they will find will be beeps and static. Then again if by some small miracle, Star Fleet does properly interpret the message; everything that I have sent is done by form of song lyrics. Central Command believed that it would be a revolutionarily approach to encoding messages into everyday things, such as the techniques that the Bajorans used against Cardassia during the Occupation. I tried to tell them about other methods used from Earth's history but not many of the Guls were too keen to listen so I let it go and let them do what they wanted.

A beep confirms that Dukat has received my message, I fidget with my fingernail as I start heading out to the sitting room. I step forward, only to trip over the cloth wrap that I am wearing.

_Yes, a brilliant move on my part to answer the door halfway naked._

I growl in frustration as I realize that I am still dressed in my night wear. A blue cotton cloth that is tied around my chest and ends at my ankles, I have always slept like this with my lingerie underneath; though I didn't realize that I hadn't changed yet.

I turn to change into something else. I step backwards then a rustle outside my quarters makes me freeze. _Someone is tampering with the door._

I reach behind my couch for my phaser while whispering rapidly, "Computer, lights off."

Stalking forward as quietly as possible and with no difficulty in the darkness, I find the nook beside the doorway. Leaning with my back against the wall, I wait. The noise pauses a few seconds then instantaneously comes a click to declare that the trespasser has cleared the locks. My breathing is steady, I finger the phaser's trigger with anticipation.

The door swishes open to admit a flood of light. A lone figure slips in slowlike. It's Garak; the doors close behind him. My mind reels at the possibilities of why he has broken in, _Have I been discovered and he's come to kill me? I suppose I better find out._


	13. Dinner?

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Dinner?**

"Stop."

My voice is pitched differently, dangerously low. It makes him freeze in tandem as I continue in a stiff voice, "Turn around slowly."

It's pitch black in the room but I can hear his shoes swipe on the carpet and his breathing is somewhat stilled. Then I hear him speak in polite sarcasm, "Please excuse me, I must have the wrong address. Perhaps, I should come back another time."

_Is he never afraid?_

There's no waver in his voice, totally nothing to indicate fear in his persona, just his usual style of being mildly amused. I edge closer with my phaser in hand, "What do you want?"

"I was looking for a friend of mine but as I am sure you know, they're not home."

"Why did you break in?"

"I heard a noise and assumed that they might be in some trouble," I am a mere arm's length away from him as he rants, "I can see that I wasn't mistaken."

Shoving him in the back with my phaser, I warn, "I have you in my sight. Do not move."

"My dear, if you are going to be a criminal then there are quite a few things that you must master."

The moment is tense. I am stunned. _He thinks I am criminal._ I breath out loud in liberation that he hasn't discovered me but Garak turns without my noticing and knocks the phaser right out of my hand. I respond with a kick to midriff. He lets out a grunt of pain before throwing himself into me and slamming me into the ground.

The wind is knocked out of me. I groan instinctively when the former spy reaches my arms and instantly snaps them to the floor above my head. My entire body is tacked to the ground by his. There is no way for me to fight back.

_I have to give in._

"Computer, lights on," I wheeze as his body weight crushes down on my abdomen. The lights blind both of us and automatically, Garak shifts his weight off of my diaphragm. I cough as my ribs are able to expand at last and my eyes blink out the flash spots, "Thank you for letting me breathe."

I notice him above me. Those Cardassian features are locked in contemplation. His eyes bear into mine, mesmerizing my mind-set into not moving. The intensity is flowing between us. Moments have passed, maybe minutes or dare I say, hours.

Finally, his voice slowly breaks the surface accompanying a smirk, "Was all of this completely necessary, my dear?"

"More than this is necessary," I nod, referring to the position we are in. Him pinning me to ground, a small space between our torsos and his face a breath away.

"Possibly," he agrees with a small move of his cranium, yet he does not release me, "What were you hoping to gain by attacking me?"

My eyes roll around in my skull as I reply dryly, "I did not attack you. I heard an intruder trying to enter my quarters. Do you always break into people's homes?"

"Do you more often than not dress so openly while answering the door?" muses Garak as he ignores my question and looks down at my attire. My eyes follow his. The cloth amply shields my chest but it is parted to show my stomach and my hips. I am not worried on the subject of revealing this much of my bareness, modesty is a trait that any sensible agent wouldn't possess. The scars, however, are showing more than I prefer.

There are too many for me to remember. Cuts, scrapes, stab wounds, and one phaser blast; they flow all over my body, from my right shoulder to my calves. I watch his face for any show of revulsion at these sights. Seconds slide by and he surprises me. No appearance of being disgusted or repelled emanates from him, only what I believe are questions of how I obtained every mark.

_I wonder what he is thinking…_

I clear my throat piercingly to gain his attention. Garak's head shoots up from his quiet examination and he shines that untrustworthy smile of his towards me, "To answer your inquiry, I do not go around breaking into other's homes. I do, however, attend dinner."

"What?"

"Allow me to explain, dinner is quite essential to one's-"

"I am well aware of the importance and the need for dinner, Garak," I feel that his hands have loosened on my arms so I shake them off of mine and push him over to the ground, "What you should explain is why you mentioned dinner."

I rise up shakily then wrap my arms over my chest on impulse while the calm and collected Cardassian prompts his head up on his elbow to stare at me with interest, "Why? Are you interested in attending dinner with me?"

"Do you wish for me to want to attend dinner with you?"

"Must I? Or do you?"

I make a disgruntled noise in annoyance but Garak raises a hand to clarify the matter, "I would like for you to attend dinner with me and I hope that you will accept my offer because you wish to."

I pretend to bite my bottom lip in quiet consideration. I may not be showing it, but I am very thrilled that he has asked me. The only reason I am not smiling like a drunken Firengi is because of the forced lip-biting and the fact that I have a message to sen-

_Oh, the message to Dukat! I have to get rid of Garak. Now._

I exclaim a little too loudly, "Yes! I mean, yes. But," I pause to search for an excuse for time then explain, "Allow me to get dressed. In fact, why don't you go down to Quark's right now and get us a table? Then I will be down in fifteen minutes, if not less."

A smile of victory crosses his face as he starts to stand. I extend my hand to him and he takes it with joy, "My dear, I will go and I will wait."

I pull him up and when Garak is standing upright, I squeeze his hand with gratitude, "Thank you. I promise not to be too long."

"Very well," I watch him turn and walk to the door then as it slides open, Garak halts unceremoniously then reaches outside, "Oh, before I forget. Happy Birthday."

A medium-sized parcel is held out to me, I look at Garak with uncontained delight, "Garak, I am touched. My birthday was last month, you know this, you were there at the party."

"Ah, yes. However, when the Doctor said that we were going to Quark's that night, I did not realize that we were celebrating your birthday. Had I known then I would have brought you something but please accept this belated gift," he pushes it towards me in gentle insistence.

I take it from him and take off the top with amusement. A small pool of green lies in the box. Grasping it, I realize the value of this present. It is Tholian silk. I pull out the fabric then Garak takes the box as I admire the dress, "This is too much, Garak. I don't know if I can accept such a valuable gift."

"Considering the delay, I feel that it is appropriate," his words become more pronounced as he flairs out the bottom of the gown, "And you should wear it to dinner."

I open my mouth to protest then stop.

_No. I will do this. For him._

"I will and thank you, Garak."

"With pleasure," Garak answers shyly then he walks out.

Peering down at the dress in my hands, I conclude that this is one of the most treasured items that I have possessed. Running my fingers through the fabric, I walk into my bedroom with no worries except plans for a pleasant evening.

"I had always thought that you would never be won over so easily and yet you are taken over by a few meaningless sentiments and a cheap trinket from an insufferable wretch."

_And there goes my good mood._

I step forward to address the figure on the screen with anything but happiness, "A joy as usual, Gul Dukat."


	14. Angry Dukat, Concerned Dresik

**Chapter 14**

**Angry Dukat, Concerned Dresik**

_Is the universe set against me or am I merely cursed?_

Dukat's azure eyes are narrowed and hard-set. Facial features are also indicating that this is not going to be one of our more pleasant discourses. Although, he is seated behind a desk; his posture is raised as any threatened reptile would be. My insides churn at the oncoming lecture that could accompany a huge penalty.

"Agent Yaval, I am deeply disappointed in you. Your father will be as well."

_Yes, you are going to mention Dresik but you are not going to stop there, are you?_

"I have always supported you in your actions, no matter how insubordinate the act. Even when Central Command wished to expel you from their ranks after you acted on that little personal vendetta of yours against the Maquis. I was one of few that defended you and now, I see how my kindness is being repaid."

_Of course. Damned if I do, damned if I don't…_

Every word that has come from him is laced with poison, meant to sting and destroy any pride I may have in me. Dukat assumes that I am a proud person as I have been before but I am not as I once was. I did not notice this facade until living among these humans, that it is not that I am so prideful, but regretful. I regret not mourning for my father as I should have done, as my human tradition demanded of me. I regret acting in such a way that has cost me any sort of peaceful state of mind for my remaining years. I regret the fact that I will never be able to truly go home to my human family without being internally isolated. These few months away from Cardassia have been so unbearable and although, I know that I am not a true Cardassian; I can face Dukat with the verity that I will never be a true human either.

But I will not speak of these things. My toes curl themselves into the carpet in anticipation, my back straightens in respect, and my voice loosens calmly, "Gul Dukat. I apologize that you have stepped into that conversation at the wrong moment."

Dukat leans back into his chair. I know what he is thinking. _Where are the excuses? The pleading?_ I have intrigued the Gul and at this instant, I am only preparing for his next move.

"Are you going to tell me that you are not planning on fraternizing with a known conspirator this evening?"

"No. I am telling you that I am doing my duty. I am keeping watch over a very dangerous enemy of Central Command as I should be. Any fraternization is strictly part of the mission. No more and no less," glaring at Dukat, I ask lightly, "Is that understood, sir?"

He appears torn between anger and relief. The history between Garak and Dukat has never been very secretive and Dukat knows that I have been informed on their ongoing feud; it is well known that Garak was a main factor behind Dukat's father being prosecuted as a traitor and that Dukat's father was killed by Garak. I wait for the Cardassian Gul to come out of his thinking and hope that he will see my reasoning. I breathe slower as the disgust and the disappointment fade from Dukat. It seems that everything that I have said is being settled in his mind.

Time drags by until I see Dukat relax slightly. Leaning forward in his chair with his head bowed in an apologetic manner, he peers up at me but before any words could reach me; another voice speaks, a very familiar one.

"It is understood, Uleni. There is no need to make your poor uncle grovel."

The screen allows another person to enter into the picture. Dresik. My hearts drowns in jubilation at the sight of my adopted father, even though I am slightly put out that he feels the need to remind me of my connection to Gul Dukat. Dresik stands next to Dukat in matching armor with no adornment to declare him as a Gul but three triangles, two gold ones and a silver one to declare him to be only one step lower as a Glinn. My Cardassian father stands at my height which makes him several inches shorter than Dukat. Both share the same blue eyes yet Dresik has a rounder face and the more pleasant demeanor. I smile at Dresik then back to Dukat without any show of friendliness. Although, Dukat isn't too fond of Dresik; even that arrogant Gul can not deny that Dresik is his half-brother.

"Dresik, I am so happy to see you. How are Revin? And Tavek?"

The smiling Cardassian walks to the front of the desk and blocks out an annoyed Dukat, "I have joyous news about both of them. They are getting married. Uleni, I couldn't believe either of them when they told me that they are planning on marrying on the same day…."

My father goes on about the stunning women that both of my brothers are planning to marry and how many grandchildren he is planning for. I hear him, bragging over my brothers' choices, and I sense his happiness but I do not share his sentiments. I can't, not with the knowledge that all of this will be happening without me. I won't be there to see this special day in Tavek and Revin's lives. I will not be meeting their wives anytime soon and when they have children, where will I be?

_Cardassia? The Gamma Quadrant? Earth? Dead?_

Finally, Dresik slows down which gives myself a fleeting moment to say, "That is wonderful, Dresik. Tell them that my blessings go to them and their loves and may they be blessed with many children to come. But why are you here with Dukat?"

"Laqar has offered me a position as one of his Glinns, I decided to take him up on his offer because then I can see you on a more regular basis but I can not wait to celebrate the day when you are finally through and can come home," by this time, Dukat comes to the front of the desk to stand beside him upon which Dresik takes the chance to chide Dukat, "Soon, I hope. Right, Laqar?"

Dukat glares at Dresik for a short while then speaks in a controlled tone, "You know as well as I do, Dresik, that we are not permitted to make such choices. Uleni will come home when her duty has been fulfilled."

The Gul might tower over Dresik but that does not mean that he can intimidated in the least. He stands straight and looks ups challengingly to Dukat, "Do not presume to tell me what I can and can not do when it comes to my children, Laqar. I am still the older brother."

As Cardassian custom allows, Dresik is the head of our family by being the oldest living male. Their connection derives from Dukat and Dresik sharing the same mother but different fathers. Which is precisely the reason for why Dresik does not feel as venomous towards my behavior with Garak, or at least, I hope Dresik does not.

"Please do not start, you two. Dukat, here is my report."

They stop to watch me send out the communication then decide that perhaps now is not the time by stepping back to lean against the front of the desk. I know that they will wait until this conversation is through before they restart their argument.

"Dukat, I will be able to send more information on Dominion/Star Fleet activity as soon as Sisko has returned. Tell Central Command to pay close attention to the Maquis movements in this sector. I have reason to believe that one of the Starfleet officers on the station is involved with them."

The two brothers share a look of suspicion between them before Dresik inquires seriously, "Which one?"

"Security Chief Officer, Michael Eddington. I don't think that Sisko or any of the others suspect him but I don't like him," a small growl erupts from the back of my throat in sudden anger when I think out loud to them, "He reminds me of a Maquis."

Both Cardassians let themselves peek around Dukat's office for a few seconds. They know my history and allow me a little time to gain control over my temper. _Relax, let it go._ My mind whispers to me in soothing assurance as my throat loosens and the bad feelings are resolved.

"I would ask how you are, dearest one, though as expected, I can see that you are well. However, what is this that I hear about Garak?" questions my Cardassian father in a teasing manner and his usual not quite so innocent smile.

My teeth nip my tongue in sudden infuriation, but I lock my jaw to stop from crying out in pain and instead say distastefully, "Now, about what you have heard from Dukat on the matter of Elim Garak, I would like the both of you to fully understand that I am only doing what my duty requires of me."

My distasteful relative steps forward in argument, "I do not trust where this is going. I read your first report and I know that you failed to kill him already."

_I knew that somewhere along the line, Dukat was going to get a hold of my reports._

That first report wasn't exactly accurate when I had turned it over to Central Command. I couldn't let them know that I was incapable, even if it was only for a moment, they would dismiss me from this mission. I couldn't let myself be reassigned to somewhere else. There was something so distressing about leaving here so soon, there still is but I can not allow it to be known; least of all, to Dukat.

_As I once heard a member of the Obsidian Order say, "It is better to lie then to die."_

"The report also notes that I was interrupted. I can not control when the Constable comes to question the traitor over minor indictments but I suppose that you wish for me to dispose of Odo as well?"

"Are you addressing me with disrespect, Agent Yaval?"

Knowing that deadly drop in the voice of Gul Dukat, it is clear that I must give up and abandon my argument. The air suddenly seems colder and the room emptier. My spine straightens even more and my chin levels itself to the floor as Cardassian observance for a commanding officer requires.

_He is right. I should have killed Garak. Then there wouldn't be so much trouble now._

I lick my lips hesitantly before answering with a defeated tone and eyes downcast in shame, "No, sir. I am merely presenting my point of view. I am sorry to question what you have to say."

Dresik's voice rings through the tense moment, "Are the two of you finished? Laqar, you know that we can trust Uleni. She has not failed a mission yet, while you have lost entire wars for Cardassia," My father goes to stand by Dukat during the nagging comments before finishing darkly, "You should show her some respect."

Dukat glares silently at something next to the screen. He usually becomes highly irritated when Dresik reminds the proud Gul of the blame he carries from the Cardassian Occupation on Bajor.

"Thank you, Father."

Dresik smiles hesitantly at me before apologizing for Dukat, "We are just concerned, Uleni. This 'Elim Garak' is known for his devious conduct. I know that you are very rigorous in your policy towards these 'others' but for my own unease, please be wary. Please, my dearest one?"

I can never resist him when he calls me that. It reminds me that my name did come from somewhere important, it was the name of his deceased wife, the original "Uleni Yaval." He used to call her, his "dearest one" as well. I have seen pictures of her, a very beautiful Cardassian woman who had never lived to see her children grow nor meet me. Dresik once related the story of Uleni to me when I had first joined the military. He was so persistent on my name being "Uleni" that I had to wonder where it came from. My curiosity caused me to nag him during his many visits to Cardassia until one evening, he told me about her.

After my decision to stay with him, Dresik pleaded my case in front of Central Command and the Obsidian Order. The Order could not believe that any human would willingly volunteer to serve Cardassia against any opponent, be it Maquis or Starfleet. Central Command though decreed that if I could endure the same testing as my other Cardassian peers then my education would be continued by the military and they would allow me to serve with them.

My true father, Travis, was correct in his assessment that I would learn more among the Cardassian children then the human ones. Because of my former schooling on Zestas 3, I was prepared for what was to come. I knew that Cardassian testing could be very rigorous and demanding. Physical ability, intelligence, and memory are the key points of exceeding on Cardassia. Once it was proven that I was as capable as any other Cardassian child in these areas, I was allowed to attend the military academy.

One of Central Command's main priorities was that my true identity never be exposed to the public. The Cardassian Bureau of Identification was very adamant about this matter as well and as expected, I was processed upon my arrival. My Cardassian father warned me that how I reacted to the Cardassian doctors would be noted in my military file and any resistance would be looked upon as opposition towards Cardassia. So, I was stripped naked and scanned from head to toe. Then I sat in forced silence while they cut samples of my hair for their records, performed retinal scans, and removed my wisdom teeth at my request. I told them that most human wisdom teeth becomes a problem in later life, the Cardassian doctors were quite thrilled to have another tidbit of information about human anatomy.

Once, the processing was finished and I was dressed, a soldier led me to the room that I was going to occupy for the next two years. It was bare, humid, and as dimly lit as the rest of Cardassia was. Cardassian architecture is quite beautiful but the soldiers' quarters were dreadfully plain. Gray walls, gray floors, and a window carved out as a trinity silhouette as the only sample of Cardassian culture. No more than a single bed and a waste extraction unit would be my companions for the oncoming years.

However, at the Cardassian Bureau's request, I was issued a squat black scarf marked with a silver stitching of the Cardassian emblem. A very tall Cardassian Gil with a booming voice delivered it to me within that first day then informed me that I was to wear it over my mouth and nose to help suppress my identity. He told me that the symbol must be present at all times when I left my quarters and to be seen without it could be very "dangerous." It wasn't lost on me that the Gil was referring more so to how Central Command would react, rather than how any of the Cardassian civilians would.

But Dresik was able to visit me whenever he wished. His status as Glinn and Dukat's brother, allowed him access to me and also to take me outside of the military academy. Dresik shared as much of Cardassia as he could and I partook in it because I knew that these were the people that I was now serving.

I walked their busy streets, ate their strong cooking, and listened to their harsh sounds. The Cardassian sun would fiercely sink into my skin as though hoping I would melt away into the ground and leave its people but as my ethnicity allowed, I did not burn; instead, my skin darkened and my determination was enlarged. I would breath in the stifling atmosphere through my veiled visage while clutching Dresik's arm in awkwardness at the other Cardassians' questionable stares. The Bajoran Occupation was still running at that time and I did not know whether or nor, I was welcome in their city; since, I was neither Bajoran nor Cardassian. Yet, most were not afraid or hostile, not while I wore their emblem on my face, and they knew better then to ask questions while I strolled on the arm of a uniformed Cardassian.

This gave Dresik much joy to take me through Cardassia. The human stories about Cardassia being barren and cruel were not so. We visited a thriving city with a large population to prove those fables wrong. There were theaters, restaurants, galleries, and museums. I was taken to comedies and dramas during some of Dresik's visits then to see exhibits from the emerging Cardassian artists at other times. Seeing those events made my resolve to serve Cardassia even stronger and my curiosity about Dresik and Uleni was more resilient then ever.

As a result, after one our longer days in the city and when we had returned to my room, I asked once more about Uleni. Dresik had shook his head then dejectedly ordered me to remove that "ridiculous thing." I pulled the Cardassian cloth over my head in excitement then sat down on my bed to hear the story of Uleni while he leaned against the wall with his eyes staring off into the night through that lone window.

Dresik began by saying that they were one of the few arranged Cardassian couples that were actually in love and they always considered themselves quite fortunate. They were married two years before he was stationed on Bajor as a Glinn over a small province. Uleni had already bore Tavek by the time that they got to Bajor, he was a year old when she became pregnant with Revin. Apparently, Uleni was not as traditional as most Cardassian women, who would usually stay at home on Cardassia Prime, she didn't want to be away from Dresik so he allowed her to accompany him. Dresik always described this point in time as perhaps the happiest in his life and there are many pictures that I have seen of them on Bajor to prove his point. He was forever hard-pressed about revealing his years on Bajor to me but from what he has told me and from what I would find later in records on either Cardassia or Bajor; Dresik was one of the few "humane" Cardassians that occupied Bajor.

Despite Dresik's gentle tolerance towards the Bajorans, the underground cells of the Bajoran Resistance were not so tolerant of him. Even before Revin had reached his fourth birthday, Bajoran renegades had planted a bomb in Dresik's home. He had been called away from home for three days and the children were outside playing when the bomb went off; the only person inside the house was Uleni. At this part of the story, Dresik had told me that when he watched me play with Tavek and Revin, I had reminded him so much of Uleni and that he was so proud to have someone like her as his daughter.

I remember the resentment that grew in me when I had heard that story. I had wanted to avenge Uleni's death. For a moment, it seemed fair that the Bajorans were suffering so and that the Cardassians were right in their treatment of them. Years later, I would change my ideas about the Occupation on Bajor but at that time, I had empathized with Dresik on losing a person we loved for crimes that neither us or them had ever committed.

That evening was probably the beginning of my own intolerance towards my human side and the dominance of my Cardassian side. Without hesitation, as I look at him and remember what he has told me; I feel whole again and less confused about who I am and why I am here. Dresik is now my father and I am his daughter.

_My heart is Cardassian._

So, as he calls me, "dearest one"; I can only smile and say obediently without question, "Yes, Father."


	15. Small Memory

**Chapter 15**

**Small Memory**

My fingers slide over the dress with ease, as I look it over in the lavatory light. The fabric is very durable; my hands clench it in amazement at the strength of the silk. I have exactly three minutes to put on this dress and make it to Quark's. Despite knowing that it cannot be so easily damaged, I carefully hold it above my head and pull it down. For a second, I am lost in a silky green forest and as I inhale, I take notice of the smell of _lavender? Honey and raspberry?_

My head pops up through the dress and my eyes immediately look to the mirror in front of me. The dress fits perfectly. The Tholian silk contains every shade of green that can be imagined, Garak chose something with a purpose of enhancing my eye color; it shows in my reflection.

The dress is cut to be a gown. It leaves my arms bare with a neckline that is designed to be suggestive yet not provocative. A small stitching makes it tighten at the waist below my chest while I note that the fabric flares down to barely touch the floor. Seeing that small-blackened clips on the shoulders join the straps, I lean in curiously to check them in the mirror. _Cardassian bone carving but,_ my eyes light up at their shape and the meaning of the figures, _Turtles? _Then the dress's perfume rises back to my attention and rouses my suspicions. _If I recall correctly, Garak had once posed as a gardener on Romulus_; instinctively, I grip the edges of the sink.

_He is making a statement but exactly what is it? Someone once told me what these scents mean…_

Images of an older woman accompanying my four-year-old self by a quiet river come to me. It was a quiet summer morning, everything was still waking. The tepid wind blew gently across the high grass while we stepped down a worn path. The sky above our head wore an endless blue with evidence of small swirls of contrails. Wild mint accompanied with willow was on the breeze and the woman holding my hand spoke of the world in a harsh yet comforting voice. My grandmother.

Her face was not lined as most would envision a grandmother's visage to be, instead it was as smooth as my own. Her coloring resembled mine and her eyes were as shadowy as mine had been. I would persistently touch her hair because I had rarely seen any of the other indigenous women wear their hair so short; I would learn later that she cut it because my grandmother was in constant mourning. While, she was so proud of the silver streak that ran through it, a trait within her family line that only she possessed, my grandmother would promise me that one day I would have my own. Rarely, did she smile but she was always laughing. Her laughter was cruel, melodious, and strident. If I had not been her granddaughter, "her joy", then I would have feared her.

_She was a doctor._

I remember that much of her. Her knowledge was so vast and she had constantly tried to share it with me. I always thought of the things she said as _Words to, one day, live by._

They approach me now on this subject, I can hear them traveling in her strong curt voice, _"Lavender as I have been told has many meanings behind it. It is romantic and soothing but it also has been thought to represent distrust. My joy, remember not to use too much of lavender or you can make yourself sick. The wild willow is very useful. It has many medicinal purposes that I will teach you when you are older; it too can be dangerous if you do not prepare it properly. Now, honey has been believed to symbolize bliss. Perhaps, I will have your cousins come by later and try to get a comb." _There had been a small hive next to that clear river and she had stopped to point it out before we came to the raspberries, _"Erica, wild raspberries are always a good sign. It means that we are having a good summer and that you will indefinitely be able to have raspberry jam on your toast this winter," _I had started picking handfuls to show to my father as she persisted brightly, _"The scent of raspberries is a sign of liveliness and intellect. My favorite and it was your m-"As_ I can recall, Grandmother always had a hard time with certain subjects, it was one of those moments when I had to look at her and wonder why she couldn't go on, but the feeling would pass and she would be back to her old unbreakable self in that stern voice, "_Don't pick too many, Erica."_

That day, like many of my memories before Cardassia and Dresik, has been forced at all times to be forgotten. My reflection of being in the emerald gown, I come back easily. The reality of being on Deep Space Nine and the fact that I am going to share dinner with one of the most dangerous men in the Quadrant, makes the seriousness set back in. Breathing stubbornly through my nose, I drive myself out of that summer day. I will not think of my grandmother and her strange hair. _She is probably long gone_. I do not even remember her name except that I was "her joy."

_As it should be._

My hair has grown out, currently at mid-back and I am relieved to possess some length again. Gathering my hair up then using a thin clip, I admire my handiwork in the mirror. _Elegant as much as necessary for dinner but easy enough to be comfortable. _No cosmetics, I seldom use them. There are no pieces of jewelry in my possession that will suit well with this gown, although seeing only me in the dress is not as bad as I would have imagined. _Simplicity is true perfection. Well, if it worked for the humans then it will have to work for the Cardassian. _I clean my teeth before checking in the mirror then I smile and take a deep breath, "It's just dinner, Erica. Not the bloody end of the universe."

_Besides, according to his chosen fragrances, there will distrust in the air with a hint of intellect and a small promise of bliss. Clever Garak._


	16. A Very Unexpected Gift

**Whooo....this was loooonnnggg. I know that I shouldn't complain because the last one was so short but whoa. I hope you enjoy. Characters were being very difficult.**

**Chapter 16**

**A Very Unexpected Gift**

I enter the Firengi's bar with a knotted stomach and a tightened voice box. Stopping at the bar, I wait for Quark to come over. I fuss with the small black clutch purse that I had brought and look over the contents of the bag. Some strips of latinum and a tiny toranium blade, a small gift from Dresik; one his favorite sayings is, _"The smaller the weapon, the harder it is to find_." I keep it hidden in a small pocket tucked in the innards of my purse. I am never quite sure when the occasion will arise for me to put it to use.

The bar isn't too busy tonight, the lack of people makes the station's air even colder. A few customers at the Dabo wheels and the usual number of half naked Dabo girls. The dinging from the Dabo wheels is very uplifting, another ploy to help lighten the mood for when Quark's customers lose everything to his alleged "fair" games. I look around for a glimpse of where Garak could be sitting but I don't notice him on the second level nor down at my own point. The Cardassian architecture glares out proudly at me and reminds me of my conversation with Dukat and Dresik, I almost feel guilty for being here.

"Why, don't you look simply appealing?"

I had been leaning against the ledge of the bar table but as soon as Quark's sarcasm hit my ear, I stand fast and speak quite promptly, "Thank you, Quark. Your compliments are always so trite."

The small Firengi smiles at my insult before he lays down the glass he had been polishing then bends forward to address me in a curious tone as he studies my appearance, "Are you here alone?"

"If truth be told, I am meeting someone but I don't see them anywhere," I look into Quark's eyes and confess sullenly, "Is there anyone here that is waiting for another to join?"

Quark peers over my shoulder with a quick glance before coming back to me with a bored tone, "Only Garak, but you're not go-"

"Oh, thank you, Quark. You have located my dinner guest. I had almost abandoned hope of her arrival."

I twist around in surprise and see Garak standing behind me with a small smile. His dark gaze slips towards me in a pleased disposition before it turns back to the very surprised Firengi behind me. He steps forward until he is beside me in facing Quark with an austere glare, although his lips are upturned, "We will need a table and I will be having my usual dinner. What would you like, my dear?"

"Exactly, what are you having?"

Quark answers in a slow tone, I believe that he still has not gotten over the shock that I am going to have dinner with Garak, "Sem'hal stew with a side of yamok sauce and a glass of rokassa juice or kanar."

_Cardassian food. Thank the gods._

I play the part of trying to decide what I am going to dine on before turning to Quark with barely hidden excitement, "I will have the same, except I will be having the kanar."

Garak listens as I voice my choice then scrutinizes objectively, "My dear, are you sure? Cardassian cuisine is, as I've been told, an acquired taste."

"I know you're not human but as we say, there is a first time for everything."

One of Quark's waiters, the one whom I believe to be his brother, comes out of nowhere and ushers us to the second level. The dress flows out behind me when we ascend on the stairs and out of the corner of my eye, I notice Garak inhaling deeply at what I assume is the perfume that he has marked the grown with. Rom, our Firengi waiter, points out our table with quiet discretion. I suffer a small wrench of pity for Rom, he is the more pleasant sibling although, I suspect that he isn't as dim as he shows and yet, he is reduced to being a mere waiter for Quark.

Sitting down, my vision is not drawn to look at the rest of vicinity but to Garak. I watch him take the chair opposite of me as my thinking and reasoning approaches me as very riotous. I have been warned to not allow any sentiment to take place in this matter. I may smile, as long as the meaning behind it is deceit. Laugh as I play in this make-believe game but only at my prey's naivety. Even the orders that deal with the more carnal aspects must solely be performed as strategy and not for any personal motives.

"I am more than satisfied with how well the dress suits you."

Self-consciously, I smooth the fabric laying on my knee and reply quietly, "Thank you, Garak. I didn't expect a gift of such grandeur and I am sure that you can imagine my surprise when I took a closer look."

I touch my shoulder while keeping my eyes locked on him. My fingers come across the small clips whose shapes resemble the reptilian figures whom my culture believes to carry the earth on their backs and to represent life. I clear my throat softly before stating in a matter-of-fact attitude, "These carvings have great meaning among my people."

"Certainly? Why don't you enlighten me then?"

His eyes sweep over the contents on our table. Over the silverware and white cloth napkins before they connect with mine to illustrate his desire to hear from me. The Cardassian posture of being entirely level is displayed by instinct from him then gracefully he takes the napkin from the table and lays it on his lap. Jumping out my stupor of studying him, I begin in a stronger tone, "I believe that there is no need for any "enlightenment" on this subject. At least, not for you, I have a feeling that you are somewhat informed on Native American culture. I also recognize Cardassian bone carving when I see it."

Garak starts to explain as our drinks are placed hastily on the table by a different Firengi waiter, "I felt that it added a sense of the wearer's personal style to the dress. I have seen you wear various pieces of jewelry to imply your culture, my dear Erica. Besides, someone else, another acquaintance of yours, provided me with the thought."

"Well, I am flattered that you took the effort and the time to fashion such pieces. It really is a gift that I will always treasure."

"Then you have given me something more. You have given me the chance to feel appreciated as a tailor," his need for a sip of kanar stops his heartfelt dialogue then Garak looks into the glass forlornly with a seemingly dreaded tone, "A chance that does not come along too often."

"I am sorry."

"Oh, do not feel sorry, my dear. Pity doesn't go well with that dress."

"And despair dims such striking eyes as yours," my comment comes up before I can control it, Garak gawks at me with friendly suspicion. I lean back in my seat so that my gaze can float away from the situation while saying, "I don't think that we should-"

"Discuss unpleasant issues?" asks Garak interestedly while leaning on the table with his forearm.

I laugh with uncontained enjoyment at his smooth finishing of my thought. His own smile widens a tad when my voice chortles at his comment. The current lighting paints his eyes as gloomy sapphires with a touch of fire in the center. Their brightness makes me more aware of myself and our surroundings. There are insubstantial exchanges taking place around us which could currently be about invading Cardassia Prime and I could care less. I was weary before, and now, I feel alive and bright. My pulse is sprinting ahead with no hint of slowing and those butterflies are back, tickling my insides, making me restless. This odd effect has never been experienced before, and I do not want it to end. So, I agree by nodding amiably, "Yes."

The former spy takes the lead in the conversation, choosing to speak of safe "issues," such as my family and my own past. I answer them with small bits of the truth and mostly lies. I was born on Earth then left when I was five years old to travel with my father and to trade.

Only one question causes a shot of panic in me, "And your mother?"

The answer is so automatic though that I only have to open my mouth to reply in a low tone, "I never knew her."

Garak seems to understand my opinion on this certain matter and leaves it alone. Instead, he continues with more inquiries about my life. So, I tell him my father died six years ago, during a bombing on Zestas 3, upon which I returned to Earth to live with my family and to go to school. Now, I travel freely as I wish; everything that I say is constructed to make me as nonchalant as possible. It is a tedious conversation, one that I was counting on, _but I am enjoying myself._ There is an unforeseen sense of freedom in partaking in a conversation of which both sides are lying and because I know about the deception, it makes the evening even more relaxed; not unguarded, just assured. He allows a few comments and questions about himself; then as expected, leaves me with only a vague idea of what actually is his history. However, I do not expect the truth, and anything less then subtle deception would cause me to feel most uncomfortable with him.

Rom arrives with our dinner as Garak questions me curiously, "I didn't have the chance to ask but did you enjoy your birthday party?"

"Of course," I seize my napkin and start to unfold it as Rom clumsily places a bowl of sem'hal stew in front of me, "Oh, thank you, Rom."

He smiles in an uncoordinated fashion after placing everything on the table then he stands and waits for anymore demands. There's a bashful manner about this Firengi that I like, almost as though he actually hasn't sold his soul yet.

"Rom, you have brought us such a wonderful dinner," I open my clutch purse to reward him, "This is for you and at my request, please do not share it with Quark."

I hold out a strip of latinum to him and the small Firengi takes it from me with barely veiled surprise. The gleam of the gold reflects in his eyes then disappears when he shoves it into his vest and glances down at the bar to make sure that Quark isn't watching him. Once assured that Quark is not going to take his tip, Rom spins around to leave then turns back to me and stutters happily, "Thank you."

Glancing after him when he leaves, a flare of fulfillment from being kind to that poor Firengi rises in me. Rom zooms across the bottom level from table to table, the very hard-working Firengi, and when I look at Quark, he is behind the bar flirting with one of the Pygorian traders. I marvel at how well-mannered Rom is and how horrible Quark is.

_Poor Rom. I would absolutely detest being Quark's sibling. It makes me wonder what their mother is like?_

"Now, about your birthday party?"

My attention slips immediately to Garak's continued inquiring, "Oh, it was very unexpected. I didn't even realize that Jadzia or Julian were planning anything for me and I don't even know that they knew it was my birthday."

He drops the pale napkin flat across his lap. I muse to myself privately at how neatly he is able to place his napkin and I am even more impressed when Garak picks up the spoon next to his bowl without missing a beat while commenting, "A small glimpse at your Federation file would easily provide that information."

"True, but do you think that they would go to all that trouble for a mere birthday?"

"I suspect Lt. Dax would be the main instigator, she is known for her love of parties, but Dr. Bashir could easily be just as guilty and with the Captain at their side, you really must keep your wits about you."

"Are you saying that Julian might possibly be," I let the sentence hang in suspense before dropping it in suspicion, "Devious?"

The Cardassian spy displays an expression of small amusement at my show of astonishment by laughing lightly, almost patronizingly at me, "The Doctor is a very charming person. If he is devious, then I would take it that there is a very good reason behind it."

I fold my arms in suspicion and exhale in disbelief, "If that is so for Julian then is it the same for you, Garak?"

"Do you believe that I would ever deceive you?"

"I think that it would be naïve of me to assume otherwise."

"A very wise answer, my dear."

I can't help but be impressed with his blunt honesty. The air doesn't seem as chilled as it had before when I was downstairs. Our conversation has come to an intermission for our present meal. My left hand lays in my lap and my right hand strays to the spoon set before me. I grip the cold metal. It is a small sting to my system when the scent of the sem'hal stew brushes through. It brings about an ache for my Cardassian home. I sift through the stew's contents and watch the tiny reddish lake swirl around before I swoop down for a spoonful. My tongue curls in pleasure at the spicy taste that comes with the tepid liquid.

_This replicated stuff isn't too bad. Doesn't even require any yamok sauce._

The enjoyment of this dinner makes everything nearby so surreal. The lights are not as harsh as they usually are and may have even been dimmed. The sound from the gambling tables below are quieter and less irritating. My perfume and the soup's fragrance is soothing me into feeling even more at ease. The Firengi waiters are less noticeable in their continuous trips of going up and down the stairway. Any feelings of being unsure about what is going to happen is fading away with each sip of the broth. I look to Garak and feel gratitude at this comfort that he provides. This sensation of being as assured as I was before I came to this station, when I knew myself and what I was capable of. I lower my eyes before he suspects me of staring and only take small secretive glances. Watching Garak sample the Cardassian stew, a realization reaches me. I do not know if it is the pleasure that crosses his face when he hovers over the steaming bowl, or the way he allows the soup to linger in his mouth before swallowing, but I believe that there is not a single day that goes by when Garak does not pine for Cardassia.

_Just as I do. Gods, we are both so pathetic. Perhaps, I would be doing him a favor if I killed him._

The idea almost makes me cringe then my stomach tightens to the point of being sick. I can not tell if it is the thought of killing Garak that is causing my discomfort or the fact that I do not enjoy the idea of his disposal as I once did. My free hand that was tucked under my leg, tightly grips the outside of my thigh until the pain makes me come to my senses. The cloth slides through my grasp as I try to direct my thoughts somewhere else.

I lay my spoon down in defeat and peel my eyes away from the half eaten dish. My neck crooks slightly and my eyes peer off at the wall. I like seeing that it is that consoling Cardassian gray. Solid, unforgiving, and at the moment, withstanding the lights that are playing off of it. There are many shadows moving over the wall. I can make out several different shapes in those black movements. Whether it is the kanar or those shadows, I can not help but remember something. I can recall a riddle about shadows that my father used to tell me when I was a child. I repeat it in my mind as though he were here whispering it to me.

_What is the part of a bird that is not in the sky, that can swim in the ocean, and yet, remain dry? It is a shadow._

_Now, Father, you are only a shadow. _My left hand unconsciously rises and touches my neck in sadness. I drop my chin and turn back to the table. When I look to Garak, he is already staring at me in a pleasant stupor. I lock eyes with him and we set a pace of calming silence. I finally notice that he is wearing new clothes, a Cardassian-cut shirt in black. His pants are matching in the same shade of gracious ebony. My inspection leads me to notice that in this angle, his eyes have changed to black as well. They are endless, and scarily mesmerizing in their transformation. My breath catches in my throat when he suddenly speaks, "Well, I have enjoyed our dinner, Erica."

His dish is empty, and I suspect that his drained kanar glass has been in that condition for a time. Licking my lips in admittance, I agree wholeheartedly, "As have I, Garak. I am very thankful for my present and for you allowing me to dine with you. I can't say that the evening would have been more pleasant without you."

"You are much too giving in your compliments. However," He wipes his mouth with his napkin then softly lays it on the table, "I have one more gift for you."

"Garak, you have done more than enough," my protest comes out nonstop at his mention of another gift, "I can not accept."

The Cardassian goes silent. I watch his stoic demeanor for any betrayal of being hurt by my words but then his eyes stray away from me. I almost wish to follow his gaze then I hear him suggest, "This gift is not something of material means."

"It isn't?"

He shakes his head insistently then raises his hand in welcoming. I hear approaching steps. They are light and precise, almost commanding. I don't know if I should turn around so I wait in uneasiness. The Central Command has drilled it into my head that "human instinct" does not exist and is merely another excuse for making dim-witted decisions; as of now, my human instinct is telling me that something bad is coming and I don't believe it to be dim-witted at all.

I still can not bring myself to turn around but they are so close that it doesn't matter. There is no scent or voice that comes with the medical teal and black uniform that comes into my peripheral vision.

My eyes close nervously and I swallow down my uneasy fears. Making myself stare at the discarded napkin of Garak, I am able to hide the huge geyser of shock that has sprung in me over the identity of this officer. The person wearing the Starfleet medical uniform stands in silence next to our table as Garak introduces them in a straight voice, "Erica, this is-"

"Please, Garak. Allow me," A strict female voice empties into the air and those familiar feelings of intimidation take place as well while she goes on, "Erica Steele. I am Dr. Evelyn Riley of the U.S.S Vesta."

My pulse is riding at, what I believe, to be a million beats per minute. I am still keeping my eyes on that napkin. My palms are rather moist in my anxiety and I am barely taking in what she said or what Garak is currently saying.

"I met Dr. Riley when she came into my shop last week. Dr. Bashir had told me that he was going to have a temporary replacement coming and imagine my shock, when she wandered into my shop…."

His explanation continues while I concentrate on the whiteness of that napkin. There are so many little fibers running in and out of each other; much like the words that Garak is wasting. There is a stitching on the outside of the square-cut cloth, I follow it in a continuous pattern until a small ounce of curiosity comes up. It tells me that I need to look at Evelyn Riley. I must see her. I have to glance at that face that I once knew so well.

Breathing in slowly, I raise my eyes towards her. There is a tearing of grief and joy inside myself at the sight of her. The unwrinkled Starfleet uniform that I detest so much. Her hands are small in their sleeves with her impeccably clipped nails and are slightly clenched at her sides. Straight and stiff is her stance. Her combadge sits on her chest as another proud reminder of who she serves. Words leave her mouth when she responds to something that Garak has said, her attention is not distracted by my obvious examining eyes; I believe that there is a wish for me to look at her. She possesses full lips, like my own with straight cleaned teeth behind them. The straight nose with a tiny hump on the upper bridge. Her bleak eyes are large with sharpness and so small are the crow's feet that sit outside of them. Then my vision climbs to the top of Evelyn Riley's head, to that silver streak. It sits on her like a thorny crown and she wears it as if she were a queen. My eyes grimace slightly at her permanently cropped hairstyle.

_Still crying, are we? After all these years, and you still haven't let it go, have you?_

Then my sight travels down until her gaze catches mine. I want to bow my head at the shame and horror that she inspires in me. There are no words that can make my actions forgivable nor make me redeemable to her but I can not forgive her either.

"Perhaps, you ladies would like to talk for awhile."

Garak pushes his chair out and stands without another word. Evelyn and myself break away for the moment to look questioningly at Garak. He steps out next to Evelyn then gestures for her to take his seat. She slides into his chair instantaneously while I stop Garak when he turns to depart, "You brought me a gift then you don't say goodbye or stay to receive my thank you?"

The former spy takes a step forward and leans in to gently lifts my hand, "I was hoping that you would take it as an invitation to visit me. I am always in great demand for stimulating conversation and maybe, at our next encounter, you might play some Cardassian music?"

"Maybe. However, I am questioning your intentions behind this gift."

His hands are warmer than I expected. Garak is being tender in his hold but firm. I wouldn't be able to pull my hand away if I desired so. The Cardassian lightly squeezes them while he assures me, "This gift was given with good intentions."

I lean in slightly and remark in a quieter tone, "Do you know who this is?"

"Yes," The Cardassian spy brings my hand up to his until it his palm to palm. I shudder inwardly at the meaning of this, on Cardassia, it is close to a kiss on the cheek. A variation of a very friendly gesture or a romantic one. On the outside, though I appear confused yet intrigued by his action.

Garak leans in more so and whispers hesitantly, "She explained that neither of you have spoken to each other in a very long time and as a Cardassian, it is very disturbing to me when family members are quarreling. I hope that you will take this opportunity and do well with it."

I bring my hand back as he straightens up and smiles at me. Then he heads toward the stairs and I stare at his retreating figure in awe. I take a moment to wonder about his words and everything that he has done.

_It is a gift or it is a curse._

Pondering about this dilemma, I forgot about Evelyn until I hear her stating in a humorous tone, "I really like Garak. You should be glad to have someone like him around."

The warmth in her voice makes me glance at her with distrust.

_Where is the anger?_

_Where is the outrage of betrayal at my being gone for so long?_

Then one question rings out more than the other two and her own expression tells me that she knows of my confusion. Yet, the question is there in my mind even though I can never ask her it.

_How can you like Garak? You don't know him or what he has done but I do._

_But, after this, I don't even know if I will like him so much._


	17. No More Mourning

Chapter 17

No More Mourning

"You've changed your eyes."

Her thought said aloud makes me wonder why she has come back into contact with me. I always imagined that I would see never see her again and here she sits before me. Evelyn Riley, my grandmother. She sits straight, not letting her back touch the chair. Her eyes feel as though they are scouring my soul and draining me of any courage that I might of possessed earlier.

I am surprised that my voice is even able to summon an answer, "You're a doctor and if you've known that I was here on the station then I assume that you have already looked at my medical file."

Her expression shows no change from being elated. Evelyn has never been one for playing the guessing game. She has been known for her honesty. For being blunt until it would bring tears to your eyes but mostly, for never giving up in any of her endeavors. Currently, it would explain why I hear her the fixed pleasantness in her reply, "I can see that you aren't slow. You were never one to be tricked, even as a child of three years old. I could never convince you that monsters would come out and get you if you didn't go to sleep at night."

"That's because you stayed up so many nights as well and if they got me then they would have taken you too."

Her smile turns warmer in its enormousness. She is very pleased that I remember those little things that we shared. I would hate to tell her that they are like data files that I am only bringing to surface for this moment and they can not mean anything. Not now. It's too late for this to be more than another hindrance in my mission. Still, something stirs in me as Evelyn leans in slightly and her silver streak catches the light, "It is so good to see you, Erica."

"Is it?"

"Yes. It's been so long. I was so worried that I would never find you but look at us, now. You've become a beautiful young woman."

At this angle, the soft glare of the lights show the oncoming gray hairs in Evelyn's hair, I must have missed those in previous examination of her. Their appearance makes something like concern shift around in my chest. Worriedly, I bend my right elbow until my hand is rested on the tiny darkened turtles holding the shoulders of my dress, "You haven't changed too much either. You're still grieving for her?"

Her shady eyes change in their shine. A small tremor runs through her hands before hastily, she lays them on her lap. The bright smile falls from her face and her lips purse into a straight serious contour, "No."

"Then whom if I may ask?"

I didn't notice the small lines marking her forehead nor the fine ones around her lips but they show when her features scrunch up in agony. This is a delicate question and I treated it as though it were the most natural thing to ask. I remember the fragility that my father used to explain this matter. He once tried to clarify the custom of our peoples' grieving process. I was five years old at that time but I can recall everything. We were on a Klingon trading ship that was making its way to the Klingon home world.

The ship was known as the _Bertlham_, which meant "the end." I remember the captain, a large Klingon with a rotundness about him who always carried a full cup of bloodwine, which he spilled messily while drunkenly telling me, "Although the name lacks in ferocity, it certainly lives up to its name! Ask any trader, Klingon or not, and they will tell you that they are mere _verengan Ha'DIbaHs _when it comes to facing the _Bertlham_!"

The Klingon captain was an acquaintance of my father's but certainly not one that I was allowed to associate with. My father didn't appreciate the captain's swearing in Klingon while I was around nor trying to tell me stories about how his Klingon father used to behead his enemies then place the remains outside for carrion to pick at. I didn't mind him as much as my father thought but nonetheless, I was isolated to our quarters for the four-day trip.

During that time, my father explained why my grandmother kept her hair so stunted. According to tradition, when we have lost someone then we illustrate our pain and loss by the cutting of our hair. The greater loss of length shows the greater loss that we suffer from. Traditionally, the set period of mourning is three days then any business between the living and the dead should be closed. Any longer than that is believed to be unhealthy and dangerous to a person's spirit.

My grandmother has been mourning for 19 years. She started her grieving on the day that I was born and now as I look at her, it hurts that there was never a moment when I didn't stir up some sadness in her. She will never cease her mourning for Sophia Steele. My mother, her daughter.

"You, Erica." Evelyn bows her head as though trapped in prayer while her voice carries out softly, "I was never sure that I would find you again. I had to assume the worst before I discovered the best."

"Then you know about Father?"

"I was coming to visit you at that time, Travis wasn't supposed to tell you. I can see that he kept his word. I was stationed on the U.S.S. Nautilus at that time and," her words are coming to me as strained and barely controlled, "They were passing next to the demilitarized zone. I was near enough to receive word of his funeral."

"And you came?"

She nods slowly before bringing her arms up onto the table. The positioning of her forearms and shoulders makes her seem haggard in her age. The Starfleet uniform is echoing the shame of my actions while my grandmother tells in a quiet tone, "I was there. You wore a plain black dress with your hair done in braids. I stood in the back and watched and waited for you to recognize me. You didn't. Then I couldn't say anything to you. You were so quiet and you weren't even crying. So, I just let you walk off with that Cardassian officer."

I let out a long sigh at her painful revelation and the weight that it lays on me. A question of why Evelyn hadn't stopped me from going with Dresik comes to mind but I don't dare put it into words. I didn't believe that I could add anymore suffering to the universe but as I sit here in this dinky Firengi-owned bar, surrounded by Bajoran extremists and rival Starfleet officers, at the edge of nowhere; easily, I have done so. I would fold my arms but that would make me seem confrontational or guarded. The temperature has dropped while I've been in this conversation. Whether the cause is the subject matter or the actual cold, I can not tell.

A Firengi waiter drops out of thin air, and eyes us humorlessly, "Can I get you anything?"

I shake my head and lean back in my seat until the chair is pressed needlessly tight against me. Evelyn orders a glass of root beer then lays a slip of latinum on the table. The Firengi wastes no time in scooping up the gold pressed currency and rushing downstairs to give Quark her order.

Relaxing my arms, I see a familiar long white line running down my left forearm. I feel a little better at noticing this old mark. It was one of the first scars that I ever received while in combat; it was a small run-in with a very nasty Romulan commander. Luckily, he only gave me this small scratch, he was actually trying to gut me. Now, it serves as a pleasant reminder of those good old days. The line runs down about six inches and passes over my copper colored skin like some sort of natural occurrence. As though it was meant to be there.

I hear Evelyn clear her throat attentively.

I look up at her with curiosity before resting my forearms against the gray steel tabletop, "That officer helped me. He was a friend of Father's and he felt that he was obligated."

"So, is that where you've been all this time?"

"With the Cardassians?"

Her black eyes shrink down to squinting distrustfully as she assents wordlessly.

My hands clasp together as I explain, "Of course not. Do you honestly think that Cardassians would take in a human orphan?"

"You were not an orphan," her voice had raised a tidbit and her fingers are clenched very tightly together, I can see the veins bulging on top of her hands, "You have family. You have always had family. Damn it, Erica, why didn't you come home?"

Her tone stirs people's attention towards us. I don't know what else to do, except smile at them until they turn back to their own affairs. Once people at the other tables are turned away, I dip in closer to her and gesture for her to stay quiet, "Shhh. Listen. I didn't even recognize you on that day. I hadn't seen you in six years and suddenly, you turn up. What did you think I was going to do? Just look up and see you then run into your arms without a backwards glance?"

My grandmother bites her lip and I am horribly reminded that I have inherited the same habit from her. Opening my mouth to say more, her hands suddenly reach out to mine and stop me. The long fingers wrap around mine tenderly. They are strong, and soft. So warm, their coloring matches mine, and there is an instant feel of friendship. Only Cardassians have touched me so closely in the past six years, and never have their hands ever been as comforting as this.

"Erica," her tone has turned gentle, almost apologetic; her eyes are wide open and gazing into mine, "I don't want to fight. I don't want to do anything to lose you again. I have searched for these past six years. Every time, we came upon a Cardassian ship, I prayed that you were there on board but you never were. Then this last time, I went into Garak's shop and he was sewing your dress and before I knew it, I had finally found you. My joy, I will not lose you now."

"I don't want to lose you, either."

_And by the Gods, for once, that is the truth._

I chew on my lip while searching answers and I continue to study our joined hands, "You shouldn't have worried about me. I was fine. The Cardassian officer let me live with him for a few months then I found work on a Bolian freighter. They let me assist them in the cargo bay until we got to Earth then I went to the School of Arts on New Zealand for two years. After that, I just started hopping from ship to ship, colony to colony, and planet to planet. Now, here I am."

"Here you are," murmurs Evelyn in a voice of awe as though my being here is some sort of miracle.

"Yes."

"My joy, I know you are lying."

The room had seemed lighter in these last moments, and now, it is darker than ever. I had such hope that I could give her this story and I could send her off without Central Command ever knowing that she and I had crossed paths. Everything I have learned from the Cardassian military is true and this proves it.

_Hope is worthless. As a Cardassian, you must put away such things. Always be six steps ahead and if you fall, you have enough time to rise again._

Her hands hold on tightly to me. There is a pleading in her actions, a sense of loss in her that I don't know the cure for, **"I need you to listen well, hu'vit'jo."**

A glass of sweet bubbly brown liquid is laid on the table without a word from the waiter. Its appearance reminds of the possibility that I might be under the Cardassian government's eye as we speak. Staring at the glass, I decided that she much be aware of the dangers that comes with knowing me.

A spark lights her dark eyes and gives her a surge of youthfulness as she listens to me revert back to our traditional language. It is one of the few languages that will not be picked up the universal translators, and for now, I must use it if I am to make her understand, **"I can not lie to you. I was never able to but the truth will only endanger your life-"**

One of her hands comes up to press my lips and stop me so that she can speak, **"I do not care what you have done, your family will help you. I only wish for you to come home with me."**

"**That can not be**," her hand trembles in mine and a tear threatens to leak from the corner of her eyes and almost brings forth my own sorrow as I confess hurriedly, **"I will not speak of what was, or what is, and I can not say what will be. You are the mother of my mother, and will always have my respect and my heart but I can not go with you."**

"**Why? Whom do you owe your life to?"**

"**I will not say. Please know that I never intended to come as far as I have. You should know that Father was killed by the Maquis."**

"**Starfleet records has his death marked as a casualty in a bombing between the Cardassians and Starfleet."**

I glance around warily by peripheral vision without turning my head, I notice that Evelyn hasn't even touched her root beer, then I slowly utter when I feel that there is no one listening, **"It's a lie. You know that there are Maquis spies in the Federation. I lied to Starfleet for my own safety, and that is why I was with the Cardassian officer. They kept me from the Maquis so that I could live."**

I didn't detect that Evelyn had let go of my hands. I see one of her hands curled away from mine on the table and the other has covered her mouth in shock. I peer around the room in false boredom while she composes herself. The tavern is near its closing time, I can see Quark down at the bar ordering the Firengi waiters to wipe down the tables.

"**Come, Grandmother."**

I stand up then wait patiently. It is hard for her to accept that I had turned to the Cardassians for safety; I am not aware of any Starfleet officer that wants to believe the Cardassians are not cold-hearted and dangerous. They are, but they are capable of kindness if they feel that they are under no threat and I was a very small one.

Her arm creeps out and loops onto mine. The black fabric brushes against my arm as I help her come to full stance. She stands and we smile at each other's equivalent height. I am pleased that I share so many things with her but it can not be. Regretfully, I release her arm. Her brows come together in hurt and confusion. I tilt my head in a way that she will understand, and so, she nods as she realizes that I don't want us to seem too close while we walk through the second level of the promenade.

I start ahead of her and walk out of the bar in a slowed stroll. Easily, she steps in stride with me. Our conversation goes on quietly without traveling to the few others that are on the same deserted promenade as us.

Purposely, we tread as leisurely as possible to delay the oncoming end of the evening. The carpeted floor muffles our steps but I can hear her Starfleet-issued shoes make an occasional scrape. The lights are dimmed to impersonate nighttime. The lack of lighting makes the shadows of the Cardassian station into fearsome shapes, and causes me to direct us towards the lifts. A faint smell of chlorine and metal marks the air as usual. Every so often, we stop to look at the stars shining through the humongous windows then another question comes from her and I attempt to answer.

I can not tell her everything. Grandmother wants to know everything though, and she doesn't stop asking, even if she knows that I will not answer her question. For the most part, they are questions that are safe to respond to.

_Do I have kids?_

_No, but she has faith that it will happen because my mother and her had their first children at the age of twenty years._

_Am I married?_

_No, although she claims to know many handsome Starfleet officers that would be honored to be involved with her granddaughter. _

_Have I ever been in love?_

_She hasn't received an answer and she's not happy. Frankly, I don't believe that I possess any reasonable answer to give her._

_Will I ever come home?_

_I don't know._

The lift comes into view at a mere fifty feet away, and a shawl of gloom falls upon both of us. She stops before me then looks around. I glance around as well then I see her step towards me with arms outspread.

The gray Cardassian architecture no longer hold power over me, and I feel no shame in my grandmother's arms. She is a part of me, just as Cardassia is. Yet, my eyes travel fearfully around the hallway. The shadows scare me, and the silence makes me uneasy. My breath catches in my throat, and I wait; still, there is no shadowed assassin sent by Central Command to step out of the shadows to strike me down.

Grandmother pulls back to cradle my face in her hands. Her skin smells of peppermint. I blush at the pride in her glistening eyes, and try to turn my face to the side. Gently, she directs me back to her then whispers so that nothing else can steal her words from me, **"You look like your grandfather. His nose, and his cheeks. Then you have my eyes, and soon enough, you will have the streak. My streak started showing when I was twenty, yours is coming. I see your father as well. His chin, his hairline, and his ears."**

"**And my mother, Sophia?"**

"**Ah,"** gasps Grandmother, she closes her eyes while her smooth palms caress my cheeks, then her dark orbs appear again as her eyelids flutter open and a small line of liquid runs down her face, **"You are exactly like her. Everything. You smile like her. You have her lips, and her laugh. It was so hard to look at you, sometimes. I am so sorry."**

Her arms drop down and she moves away from me. I feel her grief, and her disappointment. Her stance shows her to be defeated and broken by the way, her shoulders are bunched into holding back sobs. Without thinking, I draw her back to me and bind her to me with a gentle fervor, **"You are not to blame. You tried, but you can not defeat nature."**

"**I failed. Oh, god. I failed you, Erica," **her words are lost in the heaving breaths that she takes while weeping onto my shoulder, her tears drop on my bare shoulder as she cries helplessly, **"I never wanted her to go that way. After all these years, and we, doctors, still can not see such things coming."**

"**Her heart was weak. You could not stop that. You were right in letting her go."**

"**Sophia always told me to let her go, and I promised that I would, but when I had to-"**

I feel her legs give out, and within the moment, she collapses to the ground. I kneel down while she falls, trying to hold her up but her grief is too great. My arms hold her to me as I attempt to stand. The sandals that I wore, slide too easily on the carpet, and instead, we both tumble to the floor. Grandmother falls to my right and I land on my side. My legs splay out in all directions, although the dress fans out modestly. The carpet rubbed against the outside of my left calf when I plummeted; there will be a carpet burn there in the morning.

"**Erica, I am sorry."**

We lay on the floor in exhaustion. I pull my hairclip out, and use my fingers to comb out the knots in my hair, **"I was never angry with you. I was only tired of seeing you mourn."**

"**You wish to know why I did not stop you from going with the Cardassian?"**

My neck turns my head towards her, and with quiet appraisal, I urge her on.

She wipes her eyes with her hand, and inhales deeply to clear her throat before chokingly saying, **"I knew that you were hurt. I could not bear to watch you fall apart, like you had seen me do for years, and I had this feeling in my heart that you needed something that I could not give you. I knew that you needed to mourn on your own."**

I look up to the outline of the ceiling in contemplation at her words. I have nothing to say to her explanation. She is right, I did have something that I needed to do. I had wanted to find those men and repay them for their cruelty, but it was not a cure to my sorrow. It was the beginning of something else. It was the start of a life that I am not so certain I wish to have any longer.

"**Grandmother?"**

"**Yes, my heart?"**

I slightly rise until I am resting on my knees and looking down at her lying on her back with arms at her side, **"After tonight, I need you tell Garak that we spoke, and that we are no longer at odds."**

"**Of course-"**

"**But nothing else."**

Grandmother opens her mouth somewhat, her teeth flash in the darkness, then she closes it when I shush her. I get to my feet, then sway as tiredness sets in. I raise my arm above my head and lazily stretch my limbs then yawn loudly in Federation standard, "It's time."

"Yes," my grandmother had stood up without my notice and her face filled with sadness as we come to the end of the night, "Am I to believe that this will be the last time that I will see you?"

"This is not good-bye if that is what you are asking."

She lets a small smile slip, then takes me in her arms for the last time, "I thank the Creator for letting me see you again, Erica."

"The Great Grandfather has been most kind."

I take in her peppermint scent, and memorize everything existing in this moment. The blank gray walls that wear small lights by the doorways to shine on the hall, it makes everything around us surreal and bleak. The feel of her uniform imprinting itself on my skin, and the way that her cropped hair tickles my neck. The warmth from her, how it takes away the chill of Deep Space Nine. The girth of her that fills my arms.

"Do not forget your family, Erica. We will always be waiting for you on Earth."

My eyes hurt from holding back that fated salty liquid which I despise. I will not let it show. It is the last bit that makes me a Cardassian.

_I will not cry._

"I won't forget you. Someday, I will come back. I promise."

_I do. I promise it with everything that is me._

Neither of us knows how long this embrace has lasted but neither do we care. This is an experience that must sustain us for what I believe will be years to come. I do not count the seconds, nor even ponder what time it is. I am finally holding onto something that is real, something else that I can not have, except for this time. Faintly, I can hear her heartbeat. It is soothing, and resilient. The sound of it makes me wonder about something that I tried to never think of.

_Did my mother hear this while my grandmother bore her?_

Letting go of my grandmother, I blink away the tears that were trying to escape at that last thought. She grins knowingly, and presses my hand affectionately. The air is stiller than before, almost somber. I slide my hand out of hers then turn away and head towards the lift without another word. I don't turn around until I have stepped up onto the metal platform.

Evelyn Riley stands at that distance with as much strength and valor as any of our ancestors had ever shown. The uniform no longer causes me nausea; in fact, I realize that she wouldn't be who she is without it. She will allow her hair to grow out now. It is an unspoken agreement, she has found me, and now, she can cease mourning. We have changed so much for each other in these past hours, our hearts are more at ease than they have been in years. Her outline moves slightly as she raises her hand in farewell. She is still smiling, even though this is the end. Despite my earlier words, she knows that this might very well be our last time together.

Then the lift goes up and she is gone from my view. A rush of silver and black stream vertically in front of me. I ascend up to my quarters, and for once, I feel truly spent. I could race headlong into a battle with fifty Klingon Dahar Masters and never feel the sweeping adrenaline that accompanies any fight. Even attempt to conquer the Gamma Quadrant by myself. Clicking the toe of my sandal on the cold platform, I hug myself in a sudden moment of serenity as I reflect on my gratitude towards a certain tailor.

_Thank you, Garak._


	18. I Don't Date Bajorans

**Chapter 18**

**I Don't Date Bajorans**

"_The Dominion has revealed their intentions of expanding their empire here," informs Sisko in a brisk manner, "I believe that we will have to start planning for an oncoming invasion."_

_Silence. The Federation council clearly is at a loss of words at Captain Sisko's foretelling of doom. Seconds are passing._

_A masculine alien suddenly voice rises up in question, "How long do we have to prepare, Captain?"_

_It's the President of the Federation, Jaresh-Inyo. A Grazerite._

_A sigh is let out into the room. The A-gel barely caught the small tinge of worry in that exhaled noise. Benjamin Sisko has horrible news for them. _

"_I am afraid that an immediate invasion should be expected."_

_I listen in for the Federation council's reply. Their mood is somber, as though they are already laid out for the slaughter. Flashes of attending a targ hunt with my father on Qo'Nos springs into my mind. The howls of the Klingon hunters as they hurled themselves through the harsh green forest in search of their prey. My father running alongside them, his own inhibitions lost as he joined them in their yearning for the kill. The only sign of them was the flash of white roughspun shirts, and the long blades they carried that shone through the towering trees. The Klingon hunt was a test of how much endurance and strength the hunters possessed. By howling and running as a pack, they instilled fear in the targs. Just as the Dominion is now doing to the Federation. The Founders are roaring and showing their might, while the Federation quivers in fear._

_Words continue to be passed back in forth. I am right in my assessment that the Federation is literally shaking with trepidation. They wish to contact their allies and set up another council to plan for war._

_I can not tell whether Sisko agrees or not. As far as I know the captain, he is diplomatic, yet aggressive. Certainly, someone who is trying to live up to his own standards but what he wishes to accomplish doesn't require a quick and clean kill. No, it most certainly will not be a clean fight. In the end, it is a certainty of mine that Benjamin will be forced to dirty his hands. It might ruin a good man, but he is very self-sacrificing so it should fulfill his own expectations of himself; at least, as far as I know him, and my observations rarely fall through._

_The President bids Sisko farewell as their transmission ends with two small beeps. Sisko lets another sigh scrape the air as his fading steps appear as the tell-tell sign of his leaving._

_What have we gotten ourselves into?_

The Starfleet crew returned two nights ago, yet feels like they have only been here for only a few seconds. Dinner with Garak only happened last week, but it feels as though it was ten years ago. I haven't seen Garak, nor did I make my way to his shop as I had implied that I would. Instead, I hid in my room and thought about his gift. I spent hours pondering over the meeting between myself and my grandmother. Examining the memories until they made no sense, then I would think over them again, and wonder which part happened, and which I was imagining. Until, word of Sisko and his crews' arrival reached me. So, I abandoned my thoughts and came back to reality.

The first night that they arrived, they brought news that the Founders were making plans on expanding their territory through the Wormhole. Bajorans don't look at the Wormhole in the same way as they once did. It was once their "Celestial Temple," and now, it is an opportunity for another Occupation on their planet. I understand that Bajor is currently building up their defenses and preparing for battle. Obviously, it didn't take long for Kira Nerys to stir up her people, she really is an interesting character.

Luckily, I have visited every main site needed for eavesdropping, or as Central Command calls it, "auditory surveillance." It allows me to keep tabs on Starfleet and their military movements throughout the quadrant. My current orders from Central Command are to record every single plan that escapes from Sisko's lips. So far, he has only contacted the Federation and Starfleet about his experience in the Gamma Quadrant. His latest conversation was lacking, I could certainly use more insight on what is to come but all I can do is listen and wait.

There is so much to see and the only sense that I had in possession for that scene was hearing. However, listening is quite powerful in its own right. It is easier to feel the weariness in the speakers' voices and hear the tremble in their words when they speak of the oncoming enemy. It is even easier to catch a lie in a person's voice, but no one was deceitful in that last conversation. All that is left of that discussion is a void of silence, much like that of being underwater in a deep pool with only myself. Sounds are muffled and every noise is surreal. Finally, I open my eyes, and with a straightening of my neck, the sound of the promenade bursts through.

Sitting near the replicators, different orders for food and drink are tossed around. So many voices, and all of them are hungry. Aliens and humans alike push around the space looking for empty tables and chairs. It is midday in this freezing environment of gray metal and dark carpet. A cold cup of water sits in front of me, serving as my excuse for sitting alone at this table. My small black clutch stays on my lap with only a few pieces of gold-pressed latinum, and my blade laying inside. I refuse to move from this table, even though I have been here for the past hour and still have not touched my drink. Three Benzites sit quietly by themselves at a table across, drinking and laughing in their native tongue. Then two Bajoran females occupy the table next to me, despite the fact that one of them is obviously not pleased to be sitting anywhere near me.

_If you don't like me than move._

She only gives me one small glance of abhorrence before going into a quiet conversation with her associate. The others' eyes are telling me that they are hoping that I might stand and walk away from this ideal corner table. Shifting in my chair, I try to give the impression of being settled with no notion of leaving anytime soon. A sudden shiver runs down my back. The black silk dress I am wearing is small comfort as I get the feel that someone is looking at me with more than friendly intentions. Searching around the crowd, I see my unsolicited admirer. A dark-haired Bajoran male who offers a friendly smile to me when I make eye-contact. I nod politely as I assess the danger of this unfamiliar person.

My eyes travel over him as subtly as possible. His hair is a dark brown, as well as his eyes. An earring of Bajoran devotion to the Prophets marks his right ear, the chain on it swings slightly as he looks around. The Bajoran is holding a dark tray with a plate of only one hasperat on it. Blue cotton shirt with matching pants, not expensive, yet made to last. Scars on his fingers but the skin on the back of his hands is immaculate. His skin is tanned brown, I would say that he is either a farmer on Bajor or any other occupation that might deal with more than average exposure to the sun. Broad shoulders and he stands at a clean height of 6 ft. I would say he weighs around 180 lbs, but it is muscle, I can tell by the ease of his movements. Waking up from my analysis of him, I realize that he is walking in my direction.

_Wonderful. One of the Bajorans to keep me company._

I finally taste my water as a way to not notice the oncoming Bajoran male. It doesn't taste as sweet as I was hoping but I continue to sip with relish. I look up over the rim of my mug as he stops in front of my table with tray in hand and a polite grin on his face.

"Hello."

His narrow lips move leisurely so as not to disturb his smile. Now that he is closer, I examine his features while I reply, "Hello."

Chiseled jaw and a straight nose with those familiar tiny ridges on the bridge, "I am Rikas Loro. Do you mind if I sit with you?"

The dark eyes are shining with a friendly gleam that makes me feel somewhat obligated to let him sit with me. I pause and critically think it over. _He can't cause too much trouble, _I think objectively before I nod to him, "I don't mind at all. Have a seat."

This "Rikas Loro" sits down happily in the chair next to me. His high cheekbones heighten with delight as he reaches for his fork on the tray. I can smell him. Sweat and coffee. Not pungent, but noticeable. The sweat is musky and masculine, the coffee is more of an afterthought from an earlier time.

"Poor Loro. Doesn't he know who she is?"

I raise my head slightly up as words are said against me. It's those two Bajoran females at the table next to me. I take better notice of who they are. The one closest to me, works at Quark's as a Dabo girl, her name is Leeta. She is pretty with her chopped scarlet hair and chocolate brown eyes. Not to mention that she has all of the physical aspects that is needed to be a Dabo girl. As they speak, I see that Leeta is wearing her uniform, a pink dress of transparent cloth that is designed to show more then to cover up.

Although, as I look at the one who had spoke, I take note that I have no information on her identity. Quite petite with long blonde hair and cold blue eyes. Her features are elegant, simplistic. Narrow nose, and small lips. Clear skin with a natural blush to her cheeks. Except, she wears the uniform of an officer in the Bajoran militia; not a major but a lieutenant. I would look at her earring for her family name but her right side is not in my peripheral vision.

I try to stay quiet as Leeta defends me in a quiet voice, "Erica isn't a bad person, you know."

"No, she only collaborates with Cardassians. She wears their clothes, eats their food, and sleeps with them."

Suppressing a gasp of insult, I lean back in my chair as though relaxing. Rikas Loro picks at his hasperat and innocently looks to me for company. I quickly snub the invite by turning my head and looking out at the passing crowd. My ears though are focused on the table next to us.

"Oreyt," scolds Leeta, her cheeks red in fury and her hands clenched on the table, "Erica doesn't sleep with Cardassians."

The blonde lieutenant coolly replies, "She had an intimate dinner with Garak. Everyone on the station knows that."

"It wasn't like that. I don't believe that Erica is that kind of person."

"Did you see her leave with Garak?"

"I wasn't working that night but the other girls said no."

Oreyt's voice drops until I am barely able to pick it up, "Then how are you so sure?"

Leeta's answer goes unnoticed by me because I turn away. I don't want to hear anymore.

_Is this really what I have been reduced to? One dinner. That's all it was._

Still staring at the crowd, my eyes follow a passing group of Coverian traders as a means of distracting my anger. They like to wear bright red, everything article of clothing is some shade of red. They have red hair but their eyes are a bland black. A humanoid race except with small slits on their cheeks and their nails are a natural burgundy hue. I follow the group of three as they stroll past and wonder what they are doing on the station. They are one of the new races from the Gamma Quadrant. A race of traders, it seems.

If I wonder about them then I can avoid wondering about what is being said about me. I can't say that any mere gossip can really affect me. It is more of the idea that if everyone is talking about that night than they will know about my other visitor, Evelyn Riley, and that I can not allow.

"Are you in Starfleet?"

I move my hand so fast in response that my mug trembles as I turn back to this "Rikas Loro."

"No. I am a musician," Rikas Loro smiles appreciatively at my answer while I go on seriously, "I've only been here for a few months."

"Do you play Bajoran music?"

_Unfortunately, yes._

That thought passes through but I can not allow my sarcasm to show, "I am somewhat educated in Bajoran music."

"I am an artist as well," he holds his hand out to me in greeting, "A sculptor."

I place my hand in his but I do not squeeze. Gripping his hand implies that I am interested in his company, and I certainly would not want to give the wrong impression. He presses gently, probably testing my grip and hoping to encourage me.

"You haven't told me your name."

"You haven't asked for it."

"Of course," the Bajoran grins nervously, showing perfectly straightened teeth, before leaning forward on the table and suggesting playfully, "Maybe, you could share it with me over dinner."

_What a horrible idea._

The man is handsome. In an ideal universe, I would say yes. I would forget that I despise Bajorans and their arrogance. I would look past all of that self-righteous smugness, and only see his dark wavy hair, or his ideal physique. I would not recall the fact that I am a spy for Cardassia, the empire that ruled over Bajor for nearly fifty years, nor would I even try to think of excuses for refusal as I do now.

"I am sorry but I have a very busy schedule and I don't have time."

_Weak, but hopefully, he will take the hint._

Rikas nods with understanding before letting his head hang in a sad manner, "Are you ever available?"

"I don't know." I mutter softly before taking a hold of my drink, "I work quite a bit. I am very devoted to my music."

"I am very devoted to my art," counters the Bajoran passively with a wave of his large hand to indicate what he means, "But I do not let it rule my life."

I hiss quietly in displeasure. It catches him by surprise, he jumps back slightly and gives me a glare of confusion. He is being friendly and I am being anything but friendly. Taking notice of my quieter surroundings, I see that Leeta and her friend have gone. Quite a bit of chairs are now at a loss for patrons, and the tables are as well. I sip my water, and languish for something stronger. Something like kanar could help make this situation more bearable.

"Um, Rikas," his name lopes off my tongue like a badly pitched throw, "I don't do this very often. Generally, you see, I don't entertain individuals like yourself."

"Like myself?"

"Yes, and that is not meant to be an in-"

I stop when he abruptly stands up. Rikas leans towards me over the table with nothing but hostility in his persona. The muscles in his neck poke out in an angry way. His shoulders are tensed in confrontation. I can feel the resentment in him. It fuels an equal amount of fury in myself as I quickly slip my hand inside my bag for my blade.

"I tried to be courteous and kind to you but you won't even give me your name. The others talked about you and they were right," his tones shakes in hatred and his eyes flash with horrible intentions, "You are vile."

Everyone around us is watching with interest. I wish that I had paid better attention before, because the only people left around us are Bajorans. This certainly does weaken my odds against trying to get out this situation without any reparations. The Bajorans nod and whisper in agreement with him. I can tell by their disgusted stares at myself and the encouragement in their eyes for Rikas.

"I told you that I was busy. You should accept it and move on, before one of us does something that we might regret later," my words slice the air and leave the atmosphere frozen even as I go on, "As for my being _vile. _I never gave the impression of being anything other than respectful to anyone on this station. You and those _others_ obviously have trouble with tolerance. How childish of you and them."

Looking around at the Bajorans, I realize that this is also a test. A confrontation to see what I am capable of. If I stand down then they win, and they will never let me forget it. However, if I refuse to falter to them, then I am no better than a filthy Cardassian in their minds.

_I can live with that._

Rikas sneers down at me in loathing. No longer does he look as aesthetically appealing, nor as forthcoming. Truthfully, I have no intention in continuing this. Passively, I sit back in my chair as though this were the most pleasant conversation to ever take place. The Bajoran waits for me to do something with clenched hands. I only give him a patronizing smile.

He steps around the table with more revulsion in himself and his words, "Then it must be true that you share the bed of that repulsive spoonhead-

I close my eyes in frustration as he speaks maliciously of me, but before he can finish, someone else speaks out commandingly, "Loro."

Both of us instinctively turn to the person that addressed him. It is Major Kira. Her burgundy uniform holds all the authority needed to make Rikas Loro stand straight in respect. Her presence makes everyone stop and watch silently without resentment for her next move.

She crosses her arms sharply and snaps at him, "What are you doing?"

Loro points at me with an open hand, "Merely having a conversation."

"I see. It's not a very friendly one, is it?"

Neither of us answer and I am unsure if I should be happy to see the Bajoran major. She could be trouble for me. I might have to deal with her. As Cardassians like to deal with Bajorans.


	19. Getting To Know Kira

**Chapter 19**

**Getting To Know Kira**

Her stance is wide and defensive. The right foot is more forward than the other, making her figure as striking and wary. The wrinkles on her nose are straight in a calm manner as the air around her is upright and prepared for anything to come. Not to mention, that her beauty certainly marks her in a unsettling way. Kira Nerys is not a woman that goes unnoticed, not on this station, and not anywhere else. Ivory skin that contains no imperfection. Crimson locks which are probably very fetching if allowed to grow long but she keeps it crisp and short. Eyes are somewhat lined with mascara, transforming her cat-like stare into a lion's gaze. Her presence can be faint then without notice, turn into overwhelming within a flat second, if she is provoked; I imagine that Gul Dukat enjoys her mainly for that reason, he does enjoy to provoke people that should not ever be bothered. Kira Nerys's features are delicate, and smooth in their fragility; a woman for those who prefer elegant beauty and vindicated brutality, parading around in the same body. She certainly is not what I would expect a Bajoran "Major" to appear as.

"Erica," Kira calls out to me in her razor-sharp voice, "Will you walk with me?"

The air halts in its rising excitement. I hadn't expected this request from her; being thrown into one of Odo's cells seemed more likely. The Bajorans are not too pleased with me leaving with one of their favored heroes.

I pick myself up from the chair and step around Loro without taking another glance at him. I don't think that I ever wish to converse with him again, and I feel somewhat thankful to Kira for taking me out this. But as I approach her, she holds out her hand then gently clutches my upper arm when I am near enough.

_Maybe we are going to visit Odo._

Her grip is directive. Not tightly squeezing, but warning me that any trouble will be dealt with. Kira's hand is strong and petite. Her nails are clipped short and her skin is impeccable. I anonymously shudder at the thought of ridding the universe of such a proud woman.

We move away from the replicator area, leaving a few sullen Bajorans, and soon are set on a leisurely walk. She drops her hand as soon as we round the bend and are out of the sight of Loro and the others. The lights on the promenade are dimming, signaling to us that evening is approaching. The shop owners are parading their goods, putting everything on display and beckoning us with receptive smiles. For a moment, I am tempted to make an excuse and abandon Kira for one of the open shops.

_A jumja stick would be nice. _

"I will understand if you wish to press charges against Loro," exasperates Kira as her brown eyes plead with my green ones, "But I would be very grateful if you didn't."

I let her lead me for a moment. We go into Quark's and I am silenced by the loud bustle of place. The gambling, drinking, and merriment seem like they are impeding on the situation but nonetheless, Kira moves past me and takes a seat at the far end of the bar.

Following Kira's example, I sit down next to her, "I wasn't planning on pressing charges against him, Kira. If you must know," I lower my volume and make a violent motion with my hands of mangling something, "I was going to take care of Loro, myself."

"Why didn't you?"

"I didn't want to get into trouble. Besides, he was only outraged that I didn't want to see him on a romantic basis."

Bottles of alien liquor are piled behind the bar. They sit in little shelves that are carved out of the wall, giving it the effect of a honeycomb. Green, blue, red, and other liquid colors that don't seem to be edible. Two large bottles of kanar stare at me. I feel a twitch in my hand, I want it again. A real drink of kanar. Not pathetic Bajoran Spring wine, or simple water, but real Cardassian liquor.

_But not in front of Kira._

"Loro has always had a bad temper. We were both in the same cell during the Occupation," explains Kira as she motions to a Firengi behind the bar, "He's a good man but he has always been too easy of a target to provoke."

The Firengi takes our order for a Bajoran synthale and a single glass of Klingon bloodwine. I wait for Kira to give me the odd look that I expect for my choice of drink but nothing comes over her carefully tended features when I give my order. Her action confuses me. I know that the Major is a very emotive person with very little control over her feelings. Even if she displays no shock over my choice of drink, I already know that she is wound up about my recent activities with the station's sole Cardassian.

Her fingers tap in rhythm on the counter. The short chain on her earring holds a small glint of the small casino behind us. There is something bothering the quick and unmovable Bajoran woman. Normally, Kira doesn't have too much to say to me and I have never truly had the desire to trouble her. We are two powers that are better kept at a distance then brought together. We don't attract but I believe that the lack of camaraderie is more of her doing than mine. I have concluded that because I am known to be an artist on this station, Kira is intimidated by me. According to the old Bajoran caste system, Kira should have been an artist as well. I make her uneasy. I remind her of what her future would have been if the Cardassians had never stepped foot on Bajor. I am not a threat to her. Only a heart-rending remembrance.

"Can I say something that might be personal?"

I wait for her to go on with a small smile on my lips, I keep it only as a friendly and open expression for the Major to see.

Her voice is tight, constricted in its use, and uneasy about the subject, "I don't know how much you know about the Occupation but since that time, relations between Cardassia and Bajor haven't been very good."

"I know what has happened," I move in closer so that her eyes can not leave mine, "I know what went on here and on Bajor. I am not naïve, Kira."

"Then you understand that Loro's anger wasn't aimed solely at you?"

"Oh, yes. It was aimed at something I did."

I look down at the counter while addressing her slowly, "Because I had dinner with Garak. Isn't that why all of the Bajorans on the station, not just Loro, are acting this way?"

"I don't know what went on between you and Garak," she bites down disgustedly on the Cardassian name as though it were some flickering Firengi slug, yet still manages to say effortlessly, "But many of the Bajoran people feel that you aren't to be trusted."

"And you?"

"I hope that if you are what everyone says than I would be able to see it."

"Then what do you see, Kira?

Her coldness comes out in her eyes. They are as hard as diamonds and the moistness on their surfaces make them glisten. Still, Kira is letting her uneasiness show as she opinionates, "I see a good person. Someone who I hope is the good person that she seems."

_Oh, now there is something that I don't hear everyday._

No longer can I hear the whirring poppy noises of gambling. I do not notice our Firengi bartender laying our beverages next to us. There is no longer a pull on myself from the simulated gravity. The station's horrid climate isn't so harsh on me anymore. All of these things have died down until they are small echoes to this major interaction between Kira and me.

I feel the lump in my throat at her accusation.

_That is exact what it is. It is an accusation. Only a Bajoran would see me as a good person. Only they would be so easily thwarted into calling a Cardassian, a good person._

Withmy upper-body leaning coolly on the bar counter, I can feel the polished surface through my sleeve. I uncross my legs habitually but I know that I am doing it out of nervousness. I am acutely aware of everything surrounding me and within me but I don't see myself as a "good person." I can not be what she says. Yet, I have to answer to that.

I sit up, letting my arm go straight and hang at my side. This stance will give me a serious ambiance about the matter, a practice that I have used while in meetings with other Guls. I want to be firm about this without raising her suspicions, "Kira. I think that I am a good person. I can't say that I am perfect but I am not evil. No matter, how many Cardassians I converse with."

"This is about more than you having a few conversations with Garak."

"Such as?"

Suddenly, her head turns to gaze past me and at the rest of the scene around us. Kira is worried, on her guard, and unwilling to allow the chance of anyone hearing us. Not odd for someone who has lived on the edge of danger for so long. It slightly unnerves me though.

_What is so wrong that even Kira is watching her back?_

"Do you know who Kai Winn is?"

Confusion slips out of me instantly, when she mentions one of the major influences on Bajor, and it goes into my voice as I retort, "The spiritual leader of Bajor. Of course."

Kira grabs her drink with one hand and leans in with the other on the counter, "A few days ago, the Kai mentioned you during a sermon while addressing all of Bajor about morals and of their importance to the Prophets," she drinks quickly in mid-sentence so that I won't interrupt her story, "The Kai named you as one of those with lower values."

"Which means?"

"Many Bajorans listen to Kai Winn. Devoted Bajorans that would do anything to serve the Prophets. By naming you as someone that is unhealthy for the Prophets, she has practically made you into a threat."

My glass of Klingon bloodwine tempts me until my fingers drag themselves over and wrap around the chilly cup. Holding it helps the frenzy that Kira's information has caused. I usually try not to get worked up about anything but being made into a threat for the major population in this area is not the best course of action for my mission.

Generally, I avoid making a public spectacle of myself. It makes it very difficult to come and go when people pay attention to my presence. Even more so when those certain people dislike me. Yet, other things are pressing on my mind and I have to ask these things, even if it means that Kira might turn against me. I have to risk it.

"Kira," her face scrunches itself in concern while listening to my cautious words, "I never meant to cause any trouble with anyone. I am only a musician. What harm can I do?"

"I don't think that you are a threat, Erica," slowly hums Kira in a soft tone, "But I do think that you should lay low for awhile."

"You mean, _hide_?"

"I mean that you should stay out of sight for the time being."

"Kira, you stood against the Cardassians for your rights during the Occupation. You didn't find a rock to lay under and hide but you won't let me stand for what I believe in?"

A flash of anger lays over her eyes. They had been warm and comforting; now, they are sharp and heated. I can sense the danger in disturbing Kira, it makes me be even more on my guard. I can not be sure that she won't attack me. I have no fear of her but she is a target that can expose me or kill me if I allow it. I remember the warnings that I was given about her.

Central Command's file on Kira Nerys begins by showing the "estimated" number of Cardassians that she has killed. The number is only rounded. Not a true answer, but a very disturbing guess. 350 Cardassians or more. Kira is one of the most despised Bajorans in the Cardassian government, the average Cardassian knows of her but they don't know the exact reasoning for her being so well-known. I had no idea until I had studied Cardassian history, more towards the Occupation on Bajor. That is where the name, "Kira Nerys" came into my universe.

Cardassian instructors informed us about her. That she would kill any of us, Cardassians, in an instant without any hesitation. Even Cardassian children were not free from her vengeful side. They showed horrifying images of the post-bombings that she took part in. Large sites on Bajor littered with the torn remains of Cardassian soldiers. Civilian and military were her targets, just as long as they were gray-colored and bore Cardassian features. There were so many places that she victimized. Houses, barracks, and consulates being blown to pieces with only a black space left there. But, the most terrible part was the last picture that I ever saw of Kira's handiwork.

That scene haunted my dreams for weeks after viewing it. I can't say what precisely made me so sick. It might have been the 12 dead Cardassian children that were morbidly arranged around the site of explosion. Their skin charred and their small limbs set crookedly in death. The oldest child was 10 years old. He was the sole son of the Gul that was presiding over that province, his father had sent him there to play with the others. It was a care center for Cardassian children that Kira had struck. However, it was not too surprising that she would murder Cardassians. No, the odd bit was that there were two Bajoran women caring for the children inside that building. One of them was pregnant. I always wondered if Kira knew that, if she knew that there were 15 victims in all.

Like a naïve human, I had raised my hand on that day and asked the instructor, why she would kill her own people. He didn't give me that Cardassian superiority that everyone else did when I would ask a question. Instead, his reaction was worse. He pitied my naivety with a sad look and a mournful sigh, but then he answered.

"_Those Bajoran women were thought of as traitors. Collaborators that needed to be killed, like us."_

That was when I knew I was a part of them. Because it was no longer "we" and "you." It was "us." Because when I joined them, my instructor knew that I would be attacked as though I were one of them. As I am now.

Kira doesn't scare me, but she is going to try. Her head tilts forward like an angry bull set on running me down. Her breathing changes from slow and limited to harsh and breathy.

"Don't compare us to the Cardassians. We are nothing like them."

Kira's words hit my face with her synthale breath as her lips form the words. She is not loud about this but there is enough animosity in it for the Firengi at the end of the bar to turn his head and stare at us. This is a tricky situation. I need to calm her down.

"Kira," I will start with an apology, it's the easiest way, "I am sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I certainly don't want to undermine what happened to your people but I am not used to being treated like this. Surely, you must know how aggravating this is. I really did not mean to insult you."

Her shoulders relax as I make reparations to her. My words act as a chorus of a soothing song. The lines in her features smooth themselves. Kira's mad eyes lose their hostile shine and her head leans indolently to the side. She doesn't even attempt to make conversation as I explain my frustration. She just appears as being worn out by everything.

"I know that you might feel as though I have something against the Bajorans because of Garak but I want you to know that there is no romanticism between us. He is an acquaintance and only that. If you will, he is a friend of sorts."

_My friend? I haven't even drunk anything yet and now, Garak is my friend. Maybe that kanar isn't such a good idea._

Finally, she smiles. The dimples appear on that porcelain skin with ruby lips over her gleaming teeth. Rivers of relief run through me because I know that I have lulled the sleeping dragon that is Kira, back to sleep. I relax a little then I feel the bloodwine slush around in the cup I am holding. Bringing it up to my mouth, I revel at the thought of sipping the bitter liquid.

"Erica, I don't care about Garak. I am not fond of him in the least but I like you and," I listen to her fumble over her words while I drink in a large amount of stomach-wrenching Klingon liquor, "If I were you, I wouldn't let anyone tell me what is right and wrong. Even though I think that there are better friends for you than Garak."

Ignoring the awful burn in my chest, I wheeze out jokingly, and perhaps, a little drunkenly, "So, should I go hide?"

"Only if you want to."

I don't think that we have ever had such a long conversation before. I know that we have never drunken together. Nonetheless, I go on with a joke about a Cardassian and a Vulcan trapped together on Riza. She chuckles at the end and orders another drink. I decide to hold back, I don't know how comfortable I am with her. We pass stories back and forth as the bar picks up for the evening. I never knew that Kira liked to play Bajoran springball; she offers to teach me how to play when she has the time-off and I accept. An hour goes by, before it hits me that I am having a great time.

_With Kira._

_An ex-rebel who killed Cardassians and collaborators._

_And I am working with the Cardassians. I am a collaborator._

_But it looks like we're friends. We're drinking buddies. Comrades. We're going to play Springball together._

Still, she will try to destroy me when she realizes the truth. There will be no hard feelings though. I can't judge her for any attempt to murder me because of my treachery. I can't even call her a murderer, and not be just as guilty of the same crime. I am, after all, a Cardassian spy. Not only that. I am the adopted niece of Gul Dukat.

_Oh, I do hope that she never finds out about that._


	20. Half Dead Gagh At 500 Hrs

**Chapter 20**

**Half-dead Gagh at 500 hrs**

Something is not adding up. I can feel it. It is as though I have swallowed a Denavan neural parasite, and it won't stop biting and crawling around my intestines. I don't have the will to eat, or sleep. Every sound screeches devastatingly in my eardrums. The touch of my bed sheets claw at my skin and _it is so overwhelmingly cold on this insufferable station_.

Which explains why I am here in the Klingon restaurant at 500 hours in the morning, tiredly swaying over a plate of barely wriggling _Filden gagh_ with a tall glass of orange juice. The black plate holds the mini rust-colored insects with such revolting bluntness, the sight of it reminding me that I have been unable to stomach anything in the last two days.

I don't even want to think about the funny expression that Klingon chef made when I told him to give me the half-dead _gagh_. It's just that when the _gagh_ moves too much, it looks like a huge rotting mass, and I already have enough snags in my appetite. Unfortunately, Quark's is full of Bajorans, or else, I would probably be sitting at the bar right now but here I am. The Klingon eatery never has a morning rush, _I don't really understand why he's open so early,_ lunchtime and dinner are so much more busier. However, like any other Klingon, the chef probably is an early riser and thoroughly devoted to living by the ways of a warrior. Such as getting up at 500 hours to scoop barely living _gagh_ onto my plate.

My hands are stiff with cold. The tendons on the back of my hands feel tight and rigid when I grip. Flexing and bending my fingers, I try to excite the blood flow and warm up myself. Deep Space Nine is torturously cool in it's simulated atmosphere. I can't help wondering if Dukat kept the temperature at a superb 80° Fahrenheit during the Occupation. I could happily endure a few days of Dukat's strutting and preening if he could ease the wintriness of this place.

Yet, the station's climate control actually isn't what has awaken me so early this morning. It is Evelyn Riley. There is something that I can't shake off and as upsetting as the thought is, I can not believe that I didn't realize it earlier.

_I don't believe that it was actually her_.

It doesn't seem authentic. That understanding smile as I related my feelings to her, the pleased look that emanated from her when I confessed my past. There are recent moments that I can spot the holes in the façade. Her comment about my eyes, I have moss-green eyes, and yet she claimed that I bore her eyes, a searing black. I even recall her small accusation that I had changed my eyes.

_Almost as though she forgot that her own eyes are dark, and not light._

I groan aloud at the inconsistencies in my memories. Thankfully, no one is around to wonder what I am complaining about. After all, I am basing everything on what I can remember. My suspicion is not based on fact, but on my own wits. If there were a more reliable way to conclude all of my feelings as being no more than paranoia, I would be comfortably at rest in my bed.

But, I don't trust what has happened. She was too reserved, always quiet in everything that she did. Recently, I have tried recalling the behavior of Evelyn Riley. Traits, habits, and anything else that might prove that I am mistaken in my thoughts. It makes me cower in my chair. I can not afford to be wrong about this.

Evelyn Riley appears to me, in the shadow of my memories, as outspoken. If it were actually her, then she would have been furious and cut-throat. She would have never accepted an apology or hugged me to her with such maternal tenderness in such a short time. My grandmother would have stood proud and ready. She would have waited silently for my story to be said. Her face should have laid still and never told me what she was feeling or thinking. Her hands would never have fiddled on the table, they would have sat still in her lap while her eyes scrutinized me with cold regard.

_However, if that wasn't Evelyn Riley than who was it? And why?_

They didn't learn anything valuable. At least, I believe it was nothing of value.

_Unless, it was actually her and she was working for Starfleet. Then this would have been an attempt to uncover the Cardassian operation._

_But if it were Starfleet, than why I am sitting here and not in a cell? _

_It's not Starfleet. It can't be. It has to be someone else. Someone who is gaining something out of this._

That is it. Someone arranged that meeting. Someone purposely put on that charade for me to fall prey to. There can be no other reason, except I did not give any information to that stranger which could possibly used against me. Although, that certainly does depend on who is after me.

_Romulans? _

Their involvement isn't so frightening but this doesn't seem like them. I would have been detained and interrogated. _As though those pathetic Tal-Shiar could ever actually question me about Cardassian matters. How amusing._

_Bajorans?_

No, no, no. Their precious morals would get in the way, and they would have more than likely killed me once they heard that I was working with the Cardassians.

_It could easily be the Cardassians._

A test of theirs, but I would have been pulled out of this mission or killed. Whoever is behind this, they want something. Then something on the side of my plate catches my attention. The thoughts cease when I see a tiny _gagh_ worm makes out of the small pile on my plate. Its ends kick towards each other as it struggles to escape. A quivering little golden worm trying to make its way out from death. Attentively, I pick him up and allow him to rest in the palm of my hand.

I understand the worm's plight. Watching his small attempts at escape from my hand reminds me of my own unquestionable fate. I am so much like the worm. We are both trying to get away from our destinies. His, to be eaten; gobbled up whole by some larger organism than himself. Mine, to be disposed of when I am discovered to be no longer useful or am found to be a threat; I will be eradicated to aid some other larger force of individuals, Cardassian or not.

It's interesting how the ordinary processes of life seem so much more meaningful when I realize that I might never partake in them again. Things like being able to stroll with nothing but peace of mind without the never-ending wondering about any missions, politics, or death. Loving someone with the hope that I will spend the rest of my life with them and be of no danger to them. But I have made my choice. I will obey Central Command until that fateful day that marks my end.

"I have never found Klingon food to be that entertaining, my dear. Although, my powers of observation could have simply been mistaken for all of these years," drawls a friendly tone as its Cardassian owner stands patiently beside me, "Or, maybe not?"

A quick zing of liveliness shoots back into me. This effect that he has on me seems to never break down. Always, he makes me feel unexpectedly alive, and everything else seems heightened and more vivid. An awkward smile presses out of me as I gleefully answer back to Garak.

"Not exactly entertaining, Garak. More so as a way to pass time." Languidly, I drop the worm back onto the plate and tilt my head to the side to face him in a supposed bored manner, "However, I presume that you can do better than any _gagh_?"

"Well, I most certainly would imagine so," quips Garak as his smiles lightens up his presence into a more playful one, "But there those who would tell you that I barely meet the standards for being as amusing as a Vulcan monk."

"Really? I would think that a Vulcan monk would surpass you by far."

"My dear Erica, you must be teasing me," his tones rises to show that he feels hurt by my snappy retort, "If you are not, than I must let you know that you have deeply wounded me."

His hand laid over his chest to show his emotive injury. If I didn't know Garak's usual manner to be ready for any repartee, then I might believe that my comments have marred him. But those blue eyes of his, are telling me that he is enjoying this little game between us. I reach for his other hand and hold it between my own hands with mock repentance while intoning, "Now, now, Garak. You know that you are far more amusing than anyone on this station. Much less a Vulcan monk. However, if you don't accept this request for forgiveness than I will have to…"

My teeth close over my bottom lip as I think carefully over my next words, "Go to Quark's and drink bottle after bottle of Gamzian wine before taking over the station communications' and drunkenly announcing to everyone that I have lost the dearest friend that anyone on this station could ever hope to have. Then I will jump out of an airlock. Which will leave you with nothing but guilt and regret for the rest of your life because it will show that, in fact, you do have the sense of humor of a Vulcan monk and are just as forgiving as one."

"All of that for me? How melodramatic of you," coyly sighs Garak. His smirk has turned to being very amused and pleased. Gently, he slips his hand out from mine, lightly skimming the tops of my hands. A slight tremble drops down my spine, a very enjoyable tremor. Then he takes the seat across from me, while adding calmly, "I do not believe that any Vulcan monk would stand for that. Much less a simple Cardassian tailor."

His voice is so pleasant to my ears. Yes, it holds a touch of arrogance but being a Cardassian, he is naturally proud as far as I see it. Garak continuously sounds delighted to my hearing. Even in pain or impatience, I suspect that he would still have a tinge of amusement in his tone. I can only imagine him singing, it would be fulfilling in a way that I can not even begin to confess. With suppressed anxiousness, I wait for his voice to push on and, he does.

"You didn't come visit me as I thought we arranged, Erica. May I ask why?"

_So many reasons. Angry Bajorans, conspiracy theories that only exist in my head, frightening images of Dukat strangling me in my sleep….._

Garak's smile has not slipped in the least. Yet, those dark eyes are piercing in their own right. They are searching for answers. For excuses, for lies, or maybe, even for me to do more than propriety would allow.

Pushing that last idea out, I lurch out an excuse for him, "I said, _maybe _I would come see you. Then again, a time nor a date was given for me to visit."

"My dear, you don't seem the type of person who needs an excuse to do as she wishes. Did you not wish to visit me then?"

"Not at all. I am-"

My lips cut the sentence off in fear. I almost allowed the truth to come out. It seems to always come down to this with Garak. He will appear, sit down and talk with me. A few words get passed back and forth. Then he will smile. A warm expression that I rarely encounter on this station, and suddenly, I start to slip up.

_Self-restraint, Uleni. This is no more than a game, and you will win because that is all this will ever be. Only a game._

Letting my shoulders relax, I try to recover gracefully from my fumbled moment. I tense up my words as though they pain me in saying them, "Garak, There has been some trouble with the Bajorans."

_This is controversial. He should enjoy that. Those Obsidian Order types always enjoy controversy._

The grey-skinned tailor sits erect at attention. His eyes quietly follow my lips but as I finish, there is no change in him at all. Instead, he appears more entertained by my statement then horrified. I hear the rosy undertone in his voice as he speaks, "The Bajorans, my dear? What makes you so concerned about them?"

"There has been recent dissent on the station."

"Over our camaraderie?"

He knows. The atmosphere on this station lays heavily on me but it doesn't appear to bother Garak in the least. He lets himself wait for my reaction. I daresay that he wants me to be just as amused as he is in this matter. That I should be just as laidback in this as he shows.

Pushing my nibbled meal away, I don't look at him, but at the table as I reply in decaled frustration, "Yes. They think that I am a person with little to no moral values because I _fraternize_ with you."

A light chuckle rises out of him at my usage of _fraternize_. His laugh eases the intensity of my words and makes me lift my head without thinking, just basking in our shared situation. Although, I am not threatened by these ridiculous allegations towards me; I feel better knowing that he is not threatened either.

"This is not the first friendship I have had on this station that has broken down because of the collected Bajoran feelings toward me. However, those selected friends were Bajorans who had their own families to worry about. No Bajoran wants to be known as a collaborator among their own," excuses Garak as he softly relates his thoughts so that no one else may take part, "Then again, Erica, if you are not at ease in maintaining such close relations with me than we can depart from each other right now, if not as close acquaintances then as customer and tailor. I will leave the choice to you."

"I have no intention of changing anything, Garak. I want you to be my friend. There is actually only one problem that has come up with this."

I cross my arms as I say this. I don't want to share my quandary with Garak. Yet, this is an issue that has only came up recently, and I have not found the solution to it. His eyes widen at my words and even more at my forlorn act. Then his voice gently touches on the subject as though I were something to broken by mere expressions, "Are there threats made against you, Erica?"

"Of course not. Even if there were, there is no need for worry, Garak."

"There are dangerous people out there. You can not trust anyone."

_And don't you know it, Garak? Strangely enough, you are the only one that I trust. Will you betray me in end as everyone says you will?_

Clearing my throat, I listen to Garak as he tries to coax my problems out of me, "If there is no immediate danger, then what could be so distressing?

"I make my livelihood on entertainment. If no one is willing to listen to me then I will have to move on."

"Leave-" He buzzes as though I had said something unnatural and shocking. He makes no move in his body to show any personal injury. It is hard to not assure him that I never intend to leave here for that reason, that I want to stay here with him. But I will not. I am not even sure that this Cardassian cares for me, or even likes me. Perhaps, he only seeks my company because I am one of the few who give it so willingly.

"Erica," I meet his friendly gaze, and smile a little even though I feel quite glum for the moment, "Perhaps, there is a possible positive outcome for this situation."

I certainly can see no possible "positive outcome," but I am not one to be rude. Naturally, I raise an eyebrow in curiosity then I gesture with my hand for him to go on.

"I could always use some assistance in the shop." He asserts passively as though he were some Q that could change the universe with a wave of his hand, "If you need it, I could remunerate you for a few hours of labor."

"You would do that for me, Garak?"

He slowly asserts his approval with a small bow of the head, keeping his eyes locked with mine.

"I am touched."

Truly, I am. I have already looked through most of Garak's personal files on this station and on Cardassia, listened to the Bajoran gossip, and observed enough to know that, although his salary is modest at best; Garak does not hire anyone to help in his shop. Not Bajoran, Human, Bolian, Firengi, or Klingon. No one.

"Conversely, my dear," His smile disappears but his azure eyes seem to gain more gravity as they pass onto my eyes with such intensity that only his words are able to reach me, "I don't believe that you would leave on such insubstantial grounds as lack of commerce. Your eyes are darkened around the edges. You haven't slept for the past few days. Your hair is.."

"Terrible." I agree wholeheartedly and finish his search for a fitting description.

I grimace at my dark stringy locks that I didn't bother to fix this morning. Usually, I will pull my hair up into a suitable style for what I am wearing but not today. For now, it is only parted to the left and rests heavily on both shoulders. I am beyond the point of minding the unseemly nature of my appearance for the moment.

"Defeated, came to mind. Not terrible," counters Garak kindly in his unusually accurate inspection of me, "Your features are gaunt as though you have no appetite, and you are not one to deprive yourself of nutrients nor allow sloppiness. Clearly, you are suffering from some ill complaint, and taking note of your recent activities, I would proclaim that there is a problem with that gift I left for you at Quark's."

_That obvious, huh?_

"And your choice of drink is far from the ordinary."

_He's been watching me, he's seen enough to know that I drink water in the morning._

I nip my tongue to stop from shuddering at the disturbing and strangely exciting notion. Focusing my sight on his dark blue suit, I am distracted by the strange design in the fabric. Studying it closely, I can see infinitesimal swirls of thread. There are so many of them, clinging to each other to make up that oceanic cloth. I can imagine that they are so fragile on their own, so easy to tangle and break. They remind me of single situations like my own, so small and insignificant because we are only tiny parts of something much more larger and important. Garak and myself, are a part of Cardassia. Major Kira belongs to Bajor. Jadzia and Dax are connected to Trill and Starfleet.

So, my own circumstances are currently apart of a larger scheme that I am not seeing. Yet, it involves my family. Or, someone who has posed as my family. Someone has planned this out and done it. Someone who knows my future, who knows enough to see this as my weakness. A chill of realization creeps out into me as a plot outlines itself in my head.

_My family, he used my family against me. It's how he operates. He's always operated like this. During the Occupation, during everything. How many Guls and agents and Cardassians has he exposed this way? Hundreds or more? He wants something from me._

My voice croaks awkwardly as my legs shove out from under me and push me away from the table, "I have to go, Garak."

I can't hear his reply. I am already outside the Klingon's restaurant, and sprinting to the closest lifts. Faces watch me with confusion as I run past with all my might. Breathing evenly, my feet patter softly on solid ground. My arms move in tandem with my body's momentum as I race against time to stop him.

A Cardassian. A sick and twisted fiend. Someone who uses peoples' families against them to extract the truth and trap them into a morbid situation that will only serve his needs. Then he discards of them without a second thought. He is one of the few Cardassians that I humbly despise without question.

_Corbin Entek of the Obsidian Order. An insidious and daunting bastard._


	21. Familiarity And Deceit

**Chapter 21**

**Familiarity and Deceit**

_Corbin Entek._

My mind repeats the name over and over until it blurs into nonsense.

_Corbin Entek. Corbin Entek. Corbin Entek._

Sweat flows lightly down my back as I rush down the Habitat Ring's hallway. Door after door swings past as I hurry to my quarters. My hair is swept back by the breeze I create with my steady pace, and his name continues its metrical verse in my head along with my feet's quick march.

_Corbin Entek. Corbin Entek. Cor-_

I slow to a jog as my door comes up. The metallic off-set gray causes my heart to speed up in anticipation. My feet create a small brushing sound as I slightly halt at the door before it allows me entrance.

My quarter's lights are already lit. Breathing heavily, I take small notice of everything being in its proper place and nothing being amiss. I breathe in deeper to slow my heart rate and calm my agitated spirit. Seeing that nothing is wrong in here, I have to assume that my bedroom is clear as well. My eyes pass over the darkened bedroom through the doorway and already, I can not see any current hazard coming from there to hinder me. The single bed sits squarely next to the window overlooking the stars. With this sight in mind, I assure myself of my safety.

_Quarters are secure. I am in a safe location for correspondence._

The small civilian console in the room gleams at me from across the room with its many colored face of black with green and orange writing. I waste no time in crossing towards it as soon as I feel confident that everything is safe. The console is stuck next to the doorway leading to the bedroom. It is so close now. My hand hurriedly reaches out to touch it.

"There is no need for that, Uleni."

_Goddamn it._ _He's already here._

My arm drops back to my side as I finally spot where Corbin Entek was standing in the other room. He was next to the bed, hidden by the shadows. Now, however, the Cardassian approaches in a sleek and graceful manner. His steps are quiet, but loud enough to alert me of his enclosing presence. His face is still in shadow, although his eyes shine through the dark. Those dark eyes that can sparkle with more inhumanity than should ever be known.

"Or, should I address you as Erica Steele now?" Asks Entek with a barely hidden sneer as his profile breaks through to the light to reveal his haunting visage, "You know that I always preferred to call you by your real name, Erica. Uleni Yaval is a Cardassian name that you have yet to earn."

No fear. Straightened back and chin out, is how I have always held myself when dealing with Entek. There has to be no fear. If he knows that I am frightened then I will be lost to his vile intentions. Standing prepared for him, I carefully counter, "You are a senior agent, Entek. Of course, you may address me as you wish."

My eyesight is planted to the floor. I will not make eye contact with him when he speaks. I don't think that I could stand to see him as my equal while listening to him. His voice is stark and revolting. It oozes lies and distrust. I can feel it plunging in my soul when he says, "Ah, Erica. You are always so formal in these proceedings between us. I have often wondered how well our _familiarity_ would grow if you would shed that galling military staunchness for etiquette."

I have no reply for him on this matter. I do not want my mind to drift into wondering about his ideas for "our _familiarity."_ I have already suffered enough of Corbin Entek in my career. When I first arrived on Cardassia, he petitioned the Obsidian Order and Central Command to have me disposed of because I was a so-called "threat to the Cardassian people." Thankfully, Central Command was much too interested in the opportunity to experiment with a willing human subject to allow his petition to take action. That was just the beginning of our many hostile encounters with each other, although our last meeting is more memorable than all of the rest.

It lasted 18 days and 18 nights. I was interrogated by Corbin Entek. By my own freewill, he was allowed to have me beaten, questioned, and tortured as my operative training had required for me to experience. I hadn't realized that he was to be my interrogator, but I endured it to the best of my abilities. However, his resentment and anger were not what I was expecting when I gave him full reign over my person. Those memories still sometimes disturb me when I allow them too much sway over myself.

"Entek, I would prefer it if you would just tell me why you are here."

His features shade over into a stony rigor, making his large eyes of dark brown and emaciated facial structure seem more morbid than welcoming. His height is no less than an two inches taller than myself, and his shoulders are menacingly wider. I watch him clench and unclench his subtly squared jaw as he looks around the room without a word. I know him well enough to assume that this is his attempt at deciding which method will be best used to deceive me. Despite what he may try to convince myself of, it is only too obvious that we are more than well-acquainted.

Entek steps bit by bit around me, circling, and moving until his hot breath hits steadily upon my neck. Nausea gnaws at my stomach and cramps up my smooth inhalation that I had been practicing, yet with this horrible creature being so close, I can not concentrate. The Cardassian's scent burns through my nostrils with a heady spiced aroma as he leans over my shoulder, then he speaks softly next to my cheek, "I don't have to explain my presence here, _Erica_. To you or to anyone else, for that matter. You are, at this moment, my property, _Erica_. Never forget that."

"My loyalty may belong to Cardassia, _Entek,_" I spit his name out slowly as he had done with mine, making every syllable seep venom into his ears, "But I am no one's possession."

"How thoughtless of me," croons Entek slyly as his hand slides up my right side and firmly gropes my shoulder to pull me closer, "I have yet to explain why you are now my _possession,_ and mine alone."

This action pushes through my limits. The skin on my shoulder erupts with goose-bumps at the small caress of his thumb. I can not bear this sort of humiliation. Losing all self-control, I wrench my shoulder out of his grasp, and step away as quickly as possible.

_He can never have me._

The natural defiance in my persona causes my movements to take me towards the single starry-faced window. I search among the stars for some sort of comfort. I have to find a way to get out of this situation before he goes too far.

"Entek," I warn strongly without turning around, "Do not try my patience."

"Your patience is of little concern to me. I could easily take whatever I want from you, or have you do as I wish. And I say that your questions are worthless, _human_."

_**Human**__. Yes, I had forgotten how much you enjoyed calling me that, Entek._

"But," Suddenly muses Entek with a thoughtful tone, "I will humor you."

I can hear his movements telling me that he is stepping towards the couch then softly, he sits down. He clears his throat before answering me, "Exactly, nine days ago, you committed an act of treason. You revealed your involvement with Central Command to a Starfleet officer, and jeopardized your mission. However, I am not shocked at such treachery from you, Erica."

"You tricked me, Entek," I whirl around as I exclaim agitatedly to him while approaching with an accusing finger pointed at him, "All of that was your doing, and it was a despicable act."

He claps playfully as I speak. None of his serious mannerism is lost, but his smile is that of a child being entertained by a favorite story. Then he gives a slight chuckle, while I grimace at him then begin my scolding, "I can't say that I didn't expect such a thing from you, Entek. Always sneaking around, and gaining leverage over others because you do not have the gall to do things on your own."

"If you were not just an ignorant tool of Central Command, Erica, then I would destroy everything that you hold dear for saying such words," Stresses the Obsidian Order operative perfectly in a clear and commanding fashion, which silences me for the moment, as he leans on the armrest of the light gray couch, "Although, as I had mentioned before, I am humoring you. Even though you are quite accurate in your claim about my _involvement._"

"Hmmf," I staunchly mumble then I set out to sit across from him. Even before I sit down, he already takes up the conversation.

"Yet, I must confess that your dinner guest for that evening _was_ outrageous." Those large pitiless eyes bear into mine with lots of inquisitiveness while he loses his smile, and turns slightly resentful, "There are nearly 7,000 inhabitants on this station, Erica, and you befriend _Garak? _What could possibly be going through your incompetent mind? How could you allow such defenselessness around him?"

_Insults and degradation, two of Entek's favorite pastimes. Insulting me at every possible moment. He will degrade me when he gets the chance._

Bitingly, I reply to his ridiculous insinuations, "I am not defenseless."

It makes me wince as that condescending smile erupts from his lips and turns his features into a creepy mask of absurdity, "No, you most certainly are not, Erica, but you are human. Your humanity will impede on you and not permit you to take the appropriate actions. You should have killed him when you had the opportunity."

"I already know that you've read my reports so you know what became of that certain scenario."

I shouldn't explain anything to this fool; he will only turn it against me when he sees fit, but I can not stop myself, "But you didn't come here because of Garak. So, why are you here?"

"Ah, curious as usual," remarks Entek as he rises from his seating in one fluid motion and states loudly in acumen, "I have discovered a dissident in Central Command. A very powerful one with more influence than your conceited uncle could ever wish to possess."

_Well, in any case, we both agree that Dukat is idiotic._

Hearing Entek mention "a dissident in Central Command" makes me wary of this business. Any accusations brought against someone in Central Command could be very detrimental to the Central Command's hold on the Cardassian population; not to mention the power that the Obsidian Order will gain from such a scandal. Then there is the thought that if he is mistaken in this endeavor, and involves me in it, then we will both be executed. With the need to know who this "dissident" is, I dare to ask the question, "And whom are you speaking of?"

"Tekeny Ghemor."

Something inside of me has just sunk; whether it was bravery or the ability to stomach bad news, it has crashed. I sigh in relief that I am already sitting down because I feel faint. I lean back in the chair and let its back support me as I weakly protest, "No. You wouldn't dare go after _Legate Ghemor_. I mean, it's _Legate Ghemor._ He's an honored veteran amongst Central Command-"

"But he is a dissident!" Rasps Entek as he lopes towards me and grasps my chair's arms in an aggressive act, "I have seen him with my own eyes, he has collaborated with known members of the dissident group. He is a dissident. Ghemor has been plotting for years with the underground movement."

"Whom?"

Entek's face implodes into annoyance and confusion, "What?"

"Whom have you seen him collaborating with?" I ask honestly, while still somewhat scared to hear who else he will accuse.

"Several people. His aid, Ari Zayor, is also a well-suspected participant, and he was in contact with Natima Lang when she escaped, and as well as many others, Erica."

Entek's words wash over my face as he comes closer, it seems as though he is going to kiss me. The deep lines around his eyes crinkle slightly as he peers down at my lips in fascination. Every gray pore seems clearer and clearer as he comes in. I can feel slight heat from him as he approaches. Automatically, I brace myself and close my eyes in horror.

_Don't react. Don't react. Don't react._

Yet, instead of kissing or any other wretched act, only his voice gently drops on my lips, "Ghemor is even connected to your _Uleni Yaval."_

_Uleni? Impossible…_

My green eyes open up and are immediately in line with his own. I am facing confusion and doubt over this newly provided information. I don't want to believe that this is some hidden fact that Dresik never wanted me to know. But the expression on Entek's face is very amused at the bewildered expression on my own.

"Dresik never told you. Did he?"

My throat tightens at the sincerity in his voice. Suddenly, I find it more difficult to answer him, or to want to push this discussion any further. I can't even react as he reveals the truth that was never supposed to have been shown to me. All I can do is listen to the things that were not meant for my ears.

"Of course, Dresik doesn't want you to know," He chuckles in a jolly tone, "Why would he want you to know that you are named after a traitor. Uleni Yaval was a dissident, Erica. A very influential one, at the time. I am certain that he has told you that she was a celebrated poet on Cardassia. Although, all of her work was declared as seditious and has been banned."

_Dresik never mentioned that._

"When the Order discovered Uleni's work, they didn't want to eliminate her so hastily. She was, after all, the wife of Gul Dukat's brother. So, the Order approached Dresik and gave him a choice. To force Uleni to surrender to us, or their sons would be removed."

_Obsidian Order scum and their damned ultimatums._

"Quite fascinating, actually," I hear Entek's sterile voice chime unexpectedly, he enjoys this far too much for my taste, "We were certain that fool, Dresik, would try to flee Bajor but Uleni wouldn't allow him. She knew that we were waiting for them to try, and she was right. She was quite brilliant, but much too headstrong for her good. That is the exact reason why none of us were surprised by what came next."

I wish I could weep for her. To show how much I respect her sacrifice, and the grief that she must have experienced. Because I can already guess what choice she chose, without Entek's explanation. Even as his story approaches its finish, I know what was done.

"Two days before the bombing, Dresik met with two Bajorans insurgents. He engaged them, and assured them that they would not persecuted for what they were about to do. Then on the day of the bombing, Dresik came home. He stayed in the household until ten minutes before the explosion. Which by then, he took both of his sons out to play, while Uleni remained inside."

Entek's breath rattles on the last words but I scarcely notice it. Only his story and the implications of it has any effect on me. It has shocked me beyond what I am used to. This revelation of my Cardassian father being a cold-blooded killer, of walking out of his home as though it were an ordinary day when he knew that his wife was about to be blown to pieces, is sickening to me. The painful idea of him listening to the bomb killing Uleni, and standing by to watch it. Then telling Tavek and Revin that their mother's life was taken by Bajorans. It was once unimaginable to me, but not anymore.

_Dresik murdered Uleni._

Finally, Entek backs away. I don't change my positioning, or make any movement to disturb the silence. I have to absorb this information and get past it. _What else can I do? _

I can not change what has happened. There is nothing for me to do about this. I can only experience the discomfort of being lied to by someone that I hold dearly in my heart. Dresik could have told me this. I shouldn't have needed to hear it from Entek.

"Yes. Uleni was a traitor to her people. She preached heresy, and caused chaos wherever she went. When you approach Dresik with this, be sure to ask him about _The People's Question._" My torturer discloses in a satisfied tone. I know that Entek is pleased by the emotional wounds that he has inflicted on me.

Giving up on all sense of decorum, my bluntness sneaks forth in a bitter way, "What do you want then, Entek? Do you want me to watch Ghemor or kill him? What shall it be?"

"Struck a nerve, have I?" He mocks me with obvious enjoyment before that shade of seriousness returns to him and his tones deepens, "Actually, I don't think so. You will have no involvement with Ghemor. However, I will need you to intercept something."

"Such as?"

My nerves pucker up, something instantly seems rotten about this entire set-up, as I wait for his answer. Entek folds his arms, while appraisingly eying me, "Kira Nerys. I want you to capture her."

_Kira? How would Kira fit into this?_

I blink unsurely before his entire plot uncloaks itself in my mind and leaves me standing with my mouth wide open in disbelief. I had never considered such things, as Entek has. His plan involves Kira because she resembles another Cardassian, an operative by the name of Illiana Ghemor; the only daughter of Tekeny Ghemor. Iliana was an operative for the Obsidian Order, she had been supposedly "lost" in the field when she went undercover as a Bajoran rebel. It was near the end of the Occupation that she was reported as missing, at least 15 years ago, but being the child of a Cardassian Legate meant that everyone in Central Command and the Order knew of her disappearance. Still, she has yet to be found.

I disapprove of his plan without wasting a second thought, "Illiana Ghemor. You want to disguise Kira as Illiana. I have never heard of such a ridiculous scheme. Ghemor will never fall for it."

"If I recall correctly, Erica, you _fell_ victim to it. Quite easily. You wanted to believe that such an event would occur. Ghemor is of the same sentiment," I watch Entek through my lividness at his reminder of my folly to his trick, "You will do this, Erica, or I will report you to Central Command."

Blackmail. Yes, it is a legitimate form of manipulation. Probably, the most effective tactic to have someone do as one would wish. By entrapping the greater predator, it is easier to weed out the lesser adversaries that are stronger while protecting one's self. I have forgotten how well much of a master that Corbin Entek is when it comes to manipulation. But there is an opportunity for his defeat.

If I am caught in a strong current, then it would be easier for me to go with the current until I am able to pull myself out. Especially with that knowledge that the current will eventually run its course, and lose its hold on me. That is the key to being rid of Entek. I must submit for the moment and wait for the appropriate time to take him down.

"Very well," I sigh tiredly as though broken down and unable to go on.

I hang my head low and appear somber to his analytical glare. My shoulders lean forward until my elbows rest on my knees with my hands clasping each other in desperation, "I will get Kira."

"A smart decision, Erica," His first compliment barely reaches past his lips but I hear it nonetheless, "In exactly fourteen days, Kira Nerys will be contacted with some questionable information which will cause some small disturbance to her. I am counting on the Major to investigate the source of this information. She will have to travel to Bajor for this, and you will intercept her ship before she reaches the planet."

He only stops for a breath to be taken then finishes, "All I want is for you to deliver her. Nothing more, and nothing less."

I would ask why he has chosen me for this task, but it is not exactly too difficult to guess why. I am not in the Obsidian Order, therefore none of Entek's competing agents will suspect that I am working for him. By choosing me, he has amnesty if this scheme falls through; since using me will take his own involvement out of the situation.

And, it is also safe to assume that he knows that I will not harm Kira. Any other Cardassian that he would use, might have unpleasant intentions towards her, and Entek can not risk that. I have no hostility towards the Bajoran woman; in fact, I will do as much as possible to make sure that she escapes from this situation without any injury. I can not promise such things, but I will try.

Surges of possible ideas run through me, while he waits for my concurrence on his plans.

_I could kill him but no, he must have a ship waiting for him. They will wonder where he is at._

I turn my face towards Entek to examine him as I think of the next course to take, while he gazes back in puzzlement. Conflicting words race around in my mind as I trace every bit of him with my eyesight.

_I must contact someone at Central Command. They must be informed of what is happening. Then I have to tip off someone here. So, that Kira can be retrieved when the time comes._

Corbin Entek continues to watch me in my thinking. His Cardassian ridges lay dormant with controlled anticipation. The strong ash-colored skin shows the signs of being middle-aged around his eyes in this garish light. Such blackish eyes, that he has. They can seem kind when he wishes them to be, or they can turn so vicious that the Bajoran Occupation itself will seem like nothing more than a peaceful dream. The spoon-shaped feature sits in the middle of his forehead and leads down the middle of his face with a sliver of raised flesh that ends right beneath his nostrils. Yet, his thin lips remain set in a grim line. I could close my eyes at any moment on any day and remember every aspect of Corbin Entek. I do not hate him, nor am I enchanted with him, but I will always remember him and what he is capable of. I can never turn my back on him without distrust.

"I am waiting for an answer, Erica."

I had almost forgotten how notable his voice is. It is purely Cardassian in its tranquil rhythm of speech, and chosen word usage. His tone is permanently light, but there is a monotonous feel to it; as though he specifically chooses to remain at the same pitch.

_And, as fate would have it, Entek is once again my torturer and jailer._

With my hands holding each other so tightly, I can feel my heartbeat being pumping. Steady, and silent. It is something that Entek can not hear. One of the few things that he can control. He might be able to stop it, to silence my heart's song forever. One fatal shot from a phaser could easily perform the feat. But he can not control it.

Knowledge, such as this, makes me calmer. It helps me realize that there are aspects of myself that are still my own, and will never belong to others like Corbin Entek. If I concentrate on the easeful beat in my palms, I will make it through. I can answer him without focusing on everything else that has been said tonight. Steadily, I count in my head as I meet the eyes of this Cardassian fiend.

_1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3…._

But the words I speak aloud are, "Just give me the order, and I will do it."

Entek glows in such a way at me that I fear this might actually be the wrong choice to make. His hands stay at his side as his chin slightly raises itself in a superior manner so that he appears to be looking down at me while talking, "Spoken well. Almost as well as a Cardassian."

I nod stiffly in a hypnotized motion of submission, "Almost."

_1, 2, 3…_


	22. Repression And Shame

**Chapter 22**

**Repression And Shame**

_Up. Down. Up. Down_.

I am entirely involved in this exercise as I lay face up on the dark fabric-covered floor . As soon as Entek had departed, I collapsed. My body laid straight, and my mind remained in a dangerous tangle with it. I have compromised myself by allowing Entek such liberties with my judgment. Already, I am losing any poise that I might have possessed. I seem to be distraught. Shocked. Unnerved. I was certainly caught off guard by all that he had to say. But I need to slow down everything before it becomes detrimental. I must focus.

_Up. Down. Up. Down._

My diaphragm automatically fills with my forced breaths and my middle rises up. With my hands folded over my stomach, my fingers separate slightly as I suck air in. Then I start to exhale evenly. My diaphragm droops, and my hands come back together. My head's voice words the actions over and over.

_Up. Down. Up. Down._

I will practice this, until my mind is set right. I have to push back everything into the furthest depths of my psyche. Only by concentration will this be able to take place. Sole concentration on breathing in and out.

_Up. Down. Up-_

I give up.

_There are only so many times I can meditate before even that will drive me crazy._

Rolling onto my side, I spread out my right limb to cushion my neck and create a pillow. The ground is harsh against my long frame. The very fibers seem like sharp needles, pinching into my hip and shoulder. If it were possible to only think of my discomfort then I would do so. Happily, would I do so. But unfortunately, there are other matters.

The first objective is that I must plan on how to stop Entek. However, this will have to wait. As far as I can see, Entek will be most vulnerable after I deliver Kira but I must contact Central Command; they need to be aware of what he is plotting. That places everything on hold for fifteen days at least.

Second, he has ordered me off this station within the next four days. I will have to book passage on the next ship to Riza. Once I arrive on Riza then there will be more instructions waiting for me that will eventually take me back to Cardassia.

But the most pressing for the moment is _clearing my mind_.

_I must do something before it becomes too much._

Repression, a standard practice taught by Cardassian military. Only because of their own fear of the mental decomposition that might arise from the guilt of their brutal actions. It became common practice once the Cardassians realized that their own military was becoming dangerously demented because the soldiers' very consciences had driven them mad. Especially, during the Bajoran Occupation.

Repression.

A lesson of theirs that can be deadly on its own if not taught correctly or practiced as so. The Bajorans believed that they had lost many numbers during the Occupation, and so they did. Yet, the Cardassians lost many young men whom were killed by their own hand because of their unrelenting culpability. A common belief among the Bajorans is that their opponents experience nothing but smug callousness over the Occupation. The Bajorans are quite mistaken. They have no comprehension of the number of Cardassian soldiers that are internally damaged because of that recent holocaust, nor of how many Cardassians purposely use repression to save themselves from gaining more personal injuries.

The disillusioned Cardassian souls are both the criminals and the victims. We are made criminals because we perform horrible acts that can never be justified, no matter what soothing terms Central Command tries to offer us. Then we are as victims by our blind faith for Cardassia. We believe that the end will justify the means because it is all for Cardassia. We will do anything for Cardassia. We will commit whatever must be done.

Genocide. Suicide. Theft. Rape. Torture. Cruelty.

Only as long as we are told that it is for Cardassia and that our fellow Cardassians love us, we will be purified by this; so, then repression is our only medicine to heal these self-inflicted wounds. We are shown as guilty by Bajor, and we are told that we are innocent by Cardassia. But we know the truth. We are misled. We are mistaken. We are more than wrong. However, the most frightening fact that still makes all Cardassians tremble, is that we could very easily, without any hesitation, commit these same acts again and again. Because it is our duty for Cardassia and our love for it as well.

That is a dark truth to live with. Some can not stand to live with such actions. Others enjoy it, and those are the ones whom I rarely choose to associate with. Frankly, if Dukat were not my uncle then I would hardly ever glance at him, much less have a polite conversation. But we are both damned together as family and as working parts of Cardassia.

_And misery certainly does love company._

My own crimes are much more complicated then the others. I was not born Cardassian, which makes my devotion to Cardassia, uncertain. It appears questionable to the Cardassians, and to me. They have asked me for my reasons for wanting to serve them. It was a simple answer when I first arrived on their planet.

Revenge. Only revenge.

I was very young at that moment. I didn't understand that there was an "afterwards" to my revenge. Even when the reigning Guls asked what I would do "afterwards," I had no idea of what to tell them. Still, I was too willing of a participant for them that they hardly cared whether I survived or perished. Besides, what reasoning could a thirteen year-old human girl give to the Cardassian military for wanting to serve with them? All I knew is that once they recognized that my hate rivaled theirs then they would allow me to be there. And so they did.

Strangely, I still do not think about "afterwards." It can not exist. I do not look for the "afterwards" of my missions. Even now, there is no "afterwards" for this situation. There can only be what was and what is. Anything more is too dangerous to try to conceive.

_So, I will repress. Or, I will break._

After all, there is no redemption for someone like me. I am not innocent, nor am I justifiable. I am barely human, even though I bear smooth skin and humanoid features. I do not have their values or their humanity. I might have started my life as a human being but I have been warped into something else. I threw away my humanity when I murdered those Maquis men.

It was murder. Not a "mishap" as the Cardassian Guls put it to me. Nothing akin to a "triumph" as Dukat had complimented to me when I came back from that mission. Everyone was pleased by my actions, as though it were some sort of pleasant initiation that I had passed, and had magically turned myself into one of them. Only one Cardassian had seemed disappointed in me. Dresik. He never spoke of that incident with me. He avoided the issue, and I was relieved by his obstinacy on speaking about it. Yet, he has never looked at me in the exact same manner as before the mission. I wanted to forget the matter. Just to close my eyes, and never wake up to the reality of what I had done. However, dreams can be just as daunting as the harsh waking days.

_I did not know that I was killing myself when I hurt those men. Their faces can never be taken completely out of my sight._

But I was unseeing in my actions, and it took thirteen Maquis deaths to clear my eyes. Thirteen lives were given up for my youthful naivety. Thirteen men. Living, breathing, and comprehending men. All with family, friends, and that which is life.

Four humans. Six Bajorans. One Vulcan. Two Bolians.

At that time, I had counted them up greedily without any thought of what I would be destroying. Only their pain would relieve my own. I erred alone by that very thinking. By believing that their deaths would turn everything around. Instead, it changed everything I thought I knew of the universe, and mostly, myself.

Memories of my past sins writhe inside me as I strive to gain control. I curl my fingers against the carpet, feeling the strands rub against my knuckles. It's better to feel pain then to feel guilt. Harder and harder, I press until skin breaks. I stop to feel the stinging sensation of blood welling up against torn skin. Then I rub again. And again. The grey carpet darkens by the smearing of blood. Both fists are throbbing and raw now. With my self-inflicted suffering, I finally feel the need to cease my messy ministrations.

Normally, I do not injure myself in this manner. Normally, I have too many tasks to accomplish and am unable to feel this much grief. Normally, I can control myself. But not now.

A sigh rings itself out in my throat as I strive to regain a steady flow of breath. I must not let anything go awry until everything has been settled with Entek. There were many moments during his visit that I considered the simple act of killing him and damning everything else. Especially, at the moment before he left.

He wouldn't stop himself from speaking of those Maquis. He enjoys my suffering so much. His words are still floating around as echoes in this room. I can still feel his hands wrenched around my shoulders. His dark sight raking against mine as we fought for dominance over the other. The cold wall holding me up straight as Entek trapped me against it.

I can't cease from thinking about it. His hostility wasn't threatening nor frightening. Only his need to watch me suffer has reminded of how twisted that Cardassian soul is. He felt the need to torture me before his departure.

"_Say their names, Erica," whispered the older Cardassian in a sickeningly tender way as he stiffly shoved me against the wall, "I know that you haven't forgotten them. They were your first kills."_

"_No."_

_His teeth were shown in an unusual grimace, which I estimated was a smile, and then his entertained voice confirmed the smile, "Thirteen lives, Erica. You even killed your own race. That's unforgivable. Now, say their names."_

"_No."_

_At my second rejection, he ripped me forward and violently threw me back. My shoulder blades smacked against the hard surface and the breath was knocked out of my lungs. I grasped his arms in support and tried to steady myself._

"_I won't do it," I sputtered briefly before I broke out into a weak coughing fit._

_He took my lost moment as his opportunity, and acted on it. My hands rushed up to hold onto Entek for dear life as he replied to my negation by slamming me against the wall again. He was so powerful in his actions. On the second hit, I couldn't control my movements. My head fell back and cracked against the wall._

_Stunned by such a blow, my knees weakened. My body started slipping down without my knowledge. I could hardly stand because everything else was so out of focus. The room was doing more than spinning. It seemed to be doing flips, as well as moving up and down, and whatever else could possibly done. I couldn't refocus my vision. Only vision I possessed was gray and blurry._

_I couldn't hardly listen to Entek's voice. It was too loud and painful. It could only be heard as turbulent, not understandable. The sound of him made my head throb with large aching waves. It seemed that he was ordering me to stand, but I couldn't comprehend anything of the sort. Until his right hand snapped up from my shoulders and grasped my neck._

_Then I woke up from my incapacitated state. Afterall, oxygen is much more important than trying to withstand a headache, and his hand wrapped around my windpipe was more than sufficient in regaining my attention. My legs suddenly straightened at the knees and I was standing as tall as possible. Anything to loosen his grip. By this time, everything had come back into focus._

_Effortlessly, I watched Entek's bug-eyed face closing in on mine. The feel of his cold hands seizing my warm skin. The wall, colder than any Cardassian body, working with him to keep me trapped. I could feel the blood rushing up to the vessels in my face as my arteries struggled to pump. The lungs in my chest felt as though a vise had been wrapped around them. My hands grabbing at his restraining wrist in a fatal game of tug-a-war._

_Then he spoke directly and forcefully, "You really shouldn't try this game with me, Erica. I am patient, but not tolerant. Especially, in the matter of obedience."_

_I was still struggling. Continuously fighting against him with what little strength was left, but he was stronger. He was in complete control._

"_I have always enjoyed you, Erica," Confessed Entek while his free hand reached out to my face, "Even when you first came to Central Command with your ridiculous agenda. How your face lit up when you watched as I spoke of your death. So curious, and confused. But there was no fear. You were a child, and already, you had no fear of death."_

_The hand started tracing the bone structure of my face while his lips kept moving in tandem, "You have the most expressive eyes. A weakness that you have long tried to defeat but anyone on this station could read your every thought, just by looking at your eyes."_

_Suddenly, I was in the dark. His hand had unexpectedly covered my eyes, it reminded me of the freezing hand of death, itself. The lack of sight caused me to cease my struggling, which made him laugh out wickedly, and thankfully, his hand gave way slightly around my neck._

_I breathed long and hard as he said, "But as much as I enjoy watching those eyes, they are not needed for the moment."_

_My breathing was cut short by the sudden deadly pressure he exerted against my trachea until my spine scraped against the wall. The small veins on the back of my neck between my skin and bone were being broken by the force of his arms. I yelped in torturous agony, but with no breath, only choking was being heard. Despite his hand being over my eyes, I could still feel the world blacken and slip away. He was killing me, crushing the my very life out of me. Entek was going to exterminate me._

No, that is inaccurate.

_I was going to allow him to kill me._

"_Say their names, or you will die. Erica."_

_I knew that I was giving in to his sick game. I was losing as I wished, but I was not losing in the way that he wanted me to be defeated. I was supposed to give in to his wishes. I was supposed to live. Both of us knew this, but Entek was the only one that could actually practice this absurd belief._

_So, he released me._

_I fell down in a clumsy heap at his feet. I laid on my stomach and automatically assessed my surroundings. The bright light stung my eyes as I opened and closed them in relief. Entek loomed over me in careful observance of my actions. The air was swallowed in huge excruciating gulps by me as I caressed my neck with care. The skin on the back of my neck was bruised and chafed. I could taste a coppery tang on my tongue. Then something seeped out from my gasping lips. Blood. It trailed down my chin and down my neck. I assumed that he must have ruptured some of the veins in my windpipe. I wiped the blood away with the back of my hand, and swallowed the rest that was still in my mouth._

"_You should clean yourself up, Erica. Garak wouldn't want you to set a stain."_

_I wouldn't look at Entek when he insulted me. Instead, I rose up on all fours and tried to hold myself up on unsteady arms; I tried to show some dignity. But I was in no mood to recognize the formality of his higher ranking, and he did not tried to enforce it._

"_You are so stubborn, human. But I will deal with you at a later time," I kept my stare at the level of his kneecaps in their black unwrinkled pants and watched him stride to the middle of the room, "I will not endure any of your foolish shenanigans, human. I will be watching very carefully, do not forget that. You have your orders."_

_Then as quietly as he had arrived, Corbin Entek was transported, and all that I experienced of his departure was hearing the quiet zoom of the beaming system._


	23. Finale of Vengeance

_**Chapter 23**_

_**Finale of Vengeance**_

And that accounts for why I am lying here like this. Entek wanted to hear me speak those names. He knows that I do not say their names aloud. I might repeat those dead men's names in my head but I will not volunteer to say them to the world.

I ask myself, resiliently in my head_, Who would rightfully speak of their shame?_

I wouldn't. Yet, I am also proud of what I have done. Something in me tells me that I have done as I had set out to do, and that in itself is an achievement. Maybe, not one of good moral practice, but I did rid the universe of thirteen men who had committed a wrong. Thirteen men who believed that their punishment was worthy of my father's crime.

Oh, yes. My father, Travis Steele, was guilty of a crime. I learned that from the dying words of a Maquis. I discovered that my father was smuggling goods to the Cardassians, but it wasn't weapons or any item of destruction. Travis Steele was smuggling food to starving Cardassian troops on Veloz Prime. A contract was set between three major powers in the quadrant and my father had mediated over the dealings. The Orion Syndicate would provide the shipments through the Kobheerians and then they would bring it into Cardassian space. Because the Kobheerians are one of the few traders able to travel freely through Cardassian territory and the demilitarized zone, it was a logical choice for my father to use them. I had checked to make sure that this contract was solely restricted to food after I discovered some of this information from the Maquis and the Cardassian records cleared my father's name.

Yet, all of it was so pointless to me in my youth. I had lost all control. The sour anger that came over me when I realized that my father was killed over something as petty as food rations. Such a senseless death. The first Maquis that I attacked told me all of this. A Bajoran man named Jurin Pitro. When I caught up to him, Jurin was residing on one of the moons of Hakton VII as a Prylar over a small temple. It was during the Bajoran holiday, the Days of Atonement. The holiday that Bajorans use to remember their sins and repent, especially for the acts they committed during the Occupation.

_Quite unnecessary_, I had thought, _It is not possible to repent for such horrors._

I remember that I had laughed to my Cardassian commander, "_How appropriate of a time for me to be visiting among the Bajorans."_

The Cardassian commander was quite amused at the comment, if I remember correctly.

_After being briefed at Zestas 3, the Cardassians transported me to another sect that needed to be investigated for Maquis activity. It was a warm summer night that I arrived on the third moon of Hakton VII; the colonists had named it, Kosst-Kejai. The Bajoran term for "to be free." The moon held several different Federation colonies and was the site for my first assignment. My first observation of the planet was that it probably never ceased raining. Rain was continuously falling, and hearing the raindrops hit the leaves was akin to listening to the moon's very voice. Some might have seen it as a magnificent place with everything so lushly arranged. Large twisted trees that reached for the sky to block the sun out. Dark earth that tried to swallow me up when I stepped onto it. Long lazy days with never-ending humidity in a jungle of generous beauty. In my mind though it had only registered as a warm, green, and wet._

_It only took two days for me to recognize the Prylar of the local temple as one of the men that had murdered my father. I was staying in one of the smaller colonies but Central Command had evidence that it was in actuality one of the larger Maquis operations. We had a contact within the community. A Cardassian agent that was undercover who needed me to get further into Maquis affairs._

_Disguised as a Bajoran, I had made my way during my second day to the nearest temple for the Days of Atonement ceremony. I didn't realize whom would be presiding over the ritual, nor that I would immediately know who he was. But how can one forget the murderer of one's own father?_

_I had walked into the temple without any foreboding notion that I would see such a haunting vision waiting for me. The Bajoran building was large, it towered with fierce intimidation but had a welcoming feeling as well. This particular structure was fashioned out of a porous black stone that was native to the planet. Bajorans thought that it was pleasant for a temple. In my opinion, the obsidian-like material made the place look like a house of death. However, with the bright colorful streamers that Bajorans often use in their ceremonies, the temple was thoroughly decorated and seemed most amiable. The temple sat so peacefully, strangely more like the calm before the storm than anything else. The top of the temple laid flat from the outside view. However, once I was on the inside, the ceiling was curved into a hollowed bowl. Bajoran carvings and prayers were laid into the ceiling's face. The planet's moist wind blew through so easily by impressed windows that crowned the base of the ceiling. _

_There were dozens upon dozens of Bajorans kneeling in the temple. A multi-colored mass huddling on the floor was all that welcomed me when I had entered. Their eyes closed in complete concentration as they begged for forgiveness from their Prophets. Whispered prayers, small cries of guilt, and the shifting of weight between sore knees were the only sounds emanating in the temple; this noises were the temple's symphony so it seemed on that day._

_I can still recall the awkwardness I felt at watching the Bajorans in their vulnerable states of faultiness. Many were crying over their personal losses, some quivered in wretched abandonment. The place was one enormous kaleidoscope of sorrow. I was lost to the scene's powerful nature until my shoulder felt the weight of a hand and my ears felt the quiet stir of words._

"_Welcome, young one."_

_Thoughtlessly, I whipped around in a defensive manner than was caught in a muted mode of shock at seeing the speaker's face. Something unnaturally hostile strove to reach out and attack the friendly face that was smiling at me. Within the moment, I hated the Bajoran Prylar that greeted me so warmly. I hated him because I knew him. I didn't know his name. I had never searched for his military file, or even assessed any other alien profile of him. But I hated everything that he was as he stood in front of me._

_I despised the small warm brown eyes that wrinkled at the edges while he grinned. He was an older man, well along in his years, but in obvious good health. My stomach knotted furiously at the way his earring hung absolutely still while the wind swung my own earring against my neck. I wanted to reach out and strangle him through the rust-colored cloth that covered his head and neck. Most of all, I was most tempted to rip out every single shiny white tooth that was peering out as he beamed at me and bash his grey haired head into a wall. But the anger that had invaded me promised that I would have time in the future for all of the cruelty that I had in mind. Which is why I gave a smile instead to this murderous hypocrite._

"_Thank you, Prylar."_

_His hand immediately reached past my shoulder. I almost reacted by dislocating his shoulder, but I recalled that I was disguised as a Bajoran, and he was only examining my "pagh", or the Bajoran equivalent of a spirit. I watched his eyes close in concentration as his fingers lightly gripped my right ear. My lip curled in disgust as the touch of skin between myself and him until his eyes opened then my smile returned ceremoniously._

_He brought his hands down to the front of his robes in a small clutch and shrugged good-naturedly, "Your pagh is most interesting, my child. What is your name?"_

_My alias slipped out from twisted lips in a respectful tone, although that was the most improbably emotion that I was feeling, "Nizas Alaun."_

"_Ah, Alaun! Your parents named you after one of our most respected Kais, Evit Alaun."_

_I chuckled a little in agreement. I had no idea whom he was speaking of, but I needed to get him alone. I had to disarm him. My heartbeat rode in a fast mode as I chose alibi after alibi to use to get him out of this temple. My eyes were kept on his, but my mind was examining every facet of this situation. Then as though it was only meant to be, he inquired to me with more curiosity, "Do I know you, Alaun?"_

"_I don't think so, Prylar."_

"_Your face is so familiar. Perhaps, I knew your parents. Were they from Musilla Province?"_

"_I am not sure. My parents died in a mining accident on Gallitep when I was a baby. I have always lived with my aunt, she rarely spoke of them or what happened during the Occupation." I related my sad story in a mournful way with head hung low and misty eyes. I didn't want any of my personal mockery to show because that entire story was made up on the spot. As the Prylar listened, his mouth slouched in a frown to show his own pity and his eyes had warmed up with more friendliness than before._

"_And why are you here, my child?"_

_Uncertainly, I looked back to kneeling crowd of Bajorans behind me and said, "To atone, Prylar, for my wrongs."_

_Silence met my answer. I remained staring at the Bajorans, and hoped that he would want to continue our discussion. The conversation needed to last long enough for me to incapacitate him in some way. I don't know whether he was contemplating on how to address me, or whether he considered leaving me alone in my supposed thoughts. Yet, I waited with nothing but calmness and serenity on the surface of my being, while bustling anxiety and abhorrence laid within me._

"_Why don't you walk with me, Alaun?"_

_I sighed excitedly at the proposal and turned to him in a solemn way with my arms crossed in front of me, "Of course, Prylar."_

"_My name is Jurin Pitro. You can call me, Pitro, my child."_

_He led me outside the temple, and into the trees. The evening was considerably cool and dry when compared to the tiring moist heat of the day. A nightly breeze pushed us to walk along an uphill path that led to clearing above the temple._

_The Bajoran spoke of the Prophets and their teachings. I listened to him with obvious keen interest and naivety. I listened to this words of how the Prophets are good and loving, and how they will forgive anything if I truly believe in their goodness. He noted how my "pagh" was restless and wild with no direction or thought. That I was going down the wrong path and if I devoted my time to the Prophets' teachings, I would be set free._

_I don't recall enjoying the sound of his elderly voice telling me of how no one is truly good or bad. My heart remain closed when he admitted that even he had done many things that he regretted. There was certainly no fondness for him when he praised my parents for their stay at Gallitep, and my aunt for caring for me. I hadn't allowed myself to like anything about Jurin Pitro. He was disgusting to me. _

_But I did watch the Bajoran's every movement as he walked. The way his shoulders slunked in as we climbed up the hill; that posture told me that he was tired. An advantage on my behalf. How he barely moved as though questioning every step; a sign that told me that he had slight aches in his bones. Another advantage for me. Then there was his short stature which I had noted with relish upon our meeting. The Bajoran male barely reached my shoulders. One of the better advantages._

_Then I noticed that we had reached the top of the hill. Finally, we were secluded. Alone. No one would hear what was about to take place. I almost laughed out loud at how well everything was going. I was going to make Jurin Pitro atone and I would finally know everything about that fated night of my father's death._

_The old man was looking out at the temple when we stopped. He beamed admirably at his place of worship. I remember glaring at his sickening show of devotion when he had kneeled down and touched his head to the hard ground. I kept my sight trained on his clumsy movements to stoop down. My eyes rested on the reddish robes which were dulled by darkness but slightly lit by the stars in the night. I was tempted to shoot him there and then with the phase disruptor pistol that I had hidden in my clothes, but I knew that such an action would hinder my search for the rest of my father's killers._

"_Come here, Alaun," Pitro called out to me from the ground, "Come pray with me."_

_I reached with my left hand through the gray cloth tunic that I hadn't actually taken much notice of before. I could sense every bit of my being as I prepared for the next step of my plan. My throat was dry from long walk, and my neck was sticky from sweat. Dampness covered my lower back from our trek up to the hill. Toes were curling themselves in and out of the wooden sandals that were given to me by Cardassians. The fabric of the cloth was light against the breeze but it stuck to my skin in a suffocating manner. Then my fingers felt the warm metal handle of the pistol that had been resting against my skin._

_I slid out the weapon swiftly as I approached the Prylar. My arm held the gun and locked itself in a deadly mode as I pointed my phaser right at his head. My voice quivered with anger as I ordered him, "Turn around."_

_The Bajoran twisted his neck towards me then froze when his eyes met the end of my pistol. I saw fear enter his face then leave as he collected himself. He spoke up with dead calm, "Put the phaser down, my child."_

"_Turn around but stay kneeling, Jurin."_

_With more control and less clumsiness, he did as I ordered. I stared downward at him for several painful moments of fury with no words until he started to speak again, "My chi-"_

"_Stay quiet!" I hissed uncontrollably although I knew that no one else could possibly hear us, "If you struggle, I will kill you, and if that isn't enough to keep you in line than I will also go down to that temple and shoot every single filthy Bajoran as well. Do not doubt me, Maquis."_

_I felt his resolve crumble when I called him a Maquis. His shoulders slumped more inward, yet his eyes remained with mine, but I did not give him a chance to overtake me. I stepped sideways, keeping eye contact with him as I said, "Do you know who I am?"_

_The old Bajoran shook his head miserably._

_I almost shot him when he did that. I was quite jumpy; very much on the edge. Despite the fact that he was almost shot, I still kept stepping around him, "Who do you think I am?"_

"_I don't know."_

"_Do you have so many enemies, Maquis?"_

"_Some, but not among my own people."_

_The grass he was kneeling in was wetting his robes, I could see the cloth gathering moisture. I kicked his robes out of my way in annoyance before I asked, "I am not a Bajoran-"_

"_Cardassian?"_

_I could taste ridicule in my voice when I answered his interruption, "Perhaps. Does that scare you?"_

"_No. Not at all." There was a foolish amount of insolence in his tone._

_More spite was raised inside me at his poorly hidden snub. I couldn't stop myself from kicking him in the middle of the back. He gave a weak cry as he was bowled over by the strike. I smiled wickedly when he fell face-first onto the grass and laid there squirming, "This is not a time to laugh."_

"_So, you are a Cardi."_

_Then it was the disgust in his voice that caused me to act next. I grated my pistol against his back in warning and reached down with my other palm. My hand found his earring effortlessly in the dark, and in a state of madness, I tore his earring away. He let out a small scream in agony as his arms flailed helplessly against the ground. I saw blood from torn lobe wash down the shoulder of his robes._

"_You should learn to hold your tongue, Maquis," I tossed the earring out into the woods then moved away from him, "I will not have insults."_

_Jurin Pitro didn't answer back to that comment. Instead, he sat up and tenderly nursed his ear. I held back my temper until his once warm eyes flashed at me then I said, "I am not a Cardassian, but that is the least of your worries. You know that I could have killed you at any second within this last hour and I have not."_

_He understood so quickly at what I was hinting. I was amazed that he knew what I meant. A fleck of saliva landed on my shirt when he spat out a reply, "So you want something."_

_The aged Bajoran caught me off guard but I already knew what I wanted and it wasn't difficult to quickly voice that, "Just information."_

"_Then ask it already."_

_My finger on the trigger trembled slightly at that rebellious muttering of his. I couldn't understand how he could be so arrogant and so repugnant to the point that all I wanted to do was show him exactly how a Cardassian treats a Maquis. But I held back. In actuality, I had stepped back and lowered my weapon to my side in mock retreat, "I am looking for some of your fellow Maquis. I need names. Twelve of them, and you are going to tell me who they are and where they are."_

_His eyes followed my weapon's movement and as soon as it was not pointed in his direction, he relaxed. His hand fell back down from his ear and he raised his shoulders up in confidence. The Bajoran was ready to listen to me._

"_Two years back, you and your twelve friends accosted a human on Zestas 3. You murdered that man, and I want to know who was with you on that night."_

_My sentences ran through the air from me to him. The meaning of the words were not lost on Prylar Jurin Pitro. If anything, I thought that he seemed more animated by how the situation was going. The stunned expression His head bowed down to the left and it seemed as though he was going to fold to my exploits. Until I heard him say, "You are the girl. His daughter."_

_I felt my insides churn up in dread at how he spoke it. So accusingly with confusion and dislike. Yet, there was pity._

_I said nothing to this, so he went on._

"_So, this is what you've become." His hand flipped up at me in a gesture of total amazement, and his head shook back and forth in disapproval, "My child, you don't know what your father had done. He had to be dealt with."_

_The next few moments were something of a blur. It seemed as though I had taken action against him but I can not say what exactly was done. My fists were used. Yes. I can recall feeling the bones of my hands pounding against another's flesh. Then I must have used my other limbs in the struggle. My legs. My elbows. The phaser even came into account. Yet, in my fury, I hadn't noticed how much I had done until I finally stopped and looked down at the mess I had created._

_The prominent nose was crooked and smashed with blood gushing down his chin. It appeared that his jaw was dislocated, and the bone around his left eye was mashed in. Then there was the damage done to his teeth. Several were missing, and at least two of them were broken off with their bloody root exposed. I could hear wheezing as he breathed in and out. One of his ribs had been broken and had punctured his lungs. _

_Then as for myself. My hands were starting to swell, the skin on my knuckles was torn, and my shirt was covered with tiny blood spatter. I heard him plead out loud then I saw his trembling limbs as he held up his hands in defeat, "Your father was shipping weapons to the Cardassians! He claimed that it was only food but it wasn't!"_

"_How did you know that he wasn't only smuggling food?"_

_The injured Bajoran struggled for air as he gasped through his injured jaw, "How else were the Cardassians gaining weapons so quickly unless they were getting assistance from the outside!"_

"_The Maquis were starving troops on Veloz Prime. My father was only trying to help them."_

"_They were killers and your father was no better for helping them." "And how was my father a part of all of this?"_

"_Travis Steele settled the contract between the Cardassians and the Orion Syndicate. He knew how to get the weapons. Your father was a collaborator with the Cardassians."_

"_My father was a peaceful man," Jurin Pitro looked at me with amazement as I said that then his eyes grew even wider as my outrage grew, "He didn't believe in killing or hurting anyone. He didn't even fight back when you Maquis killed him!"_

"_Because he knew that he was guilty!"_

_I fired the disruptor in a fit of anger. The heated beam hit him at the left knee with the setting on the pistol high enough to burn out his kneecap. My stomach nearly pitched my dinner out at the smell of burn blood and skin. Jurin Pitro shrieked in a high-pitched wail and clutched his thigh in distress. _

_I wanted to screech at him. Thoughts popped into my head on how to make him pay. I wanted to stomp him into the earth with my feet until he was a bloody puddle of crumbled bones and tattered flesh. Slowly burn off his skin from his muscles inch by inch. Poison him with the most horrible agents and watch him die in complete and utter torture. But none of these sufficed to me. If there was one useful thing that Cardassians had shown me, it was that physical suffering will never compare to the emotional suffering._

_After his crying had died down, and once I was assured that he wasn't going to pass out on me, I started another phase of my plan. I kneeled next to him with my phaser propped against his bloody temple, "I should kill you as you killed my father, and ridicule you as you had done to me on that night. But I won't. Instead, I am going to give you a choice, Maquis."_

_Jurin Pitro made no movement to stop me so I continued._

"_Either, you give me the names and locations of those men, or I will order my ship to destroy your temple. It is simple. Twelve murderers or innocent men, women, and children."_

_There was no show of emotion as I said this. I had no enjoyment in threatening him or those people. What I wanted from all of it was satisfaction. Vengeance and satisfaction. That was my only goal. Such a shame that I didn't know how ridiculous I was being._

_I watched his lips form the words slowly. Even tears had leaked from his eyes as he decided the fates of his fellow Bajorans. I knew that he was in obvious distress and at last, I felt some sort of contentedness at seeing his suffering._

_The names fell from his mouth and entered my thoughts in an intensely and dangerous trade. Once he finished, I stood up and prepared to leave. Then before I could contain myself, I turned back and thanked him. I spoke those words of gratitude as though that had been a pleasant exchange, then I lifted my phaser and blasted his being into disintegration. The silence afterwards can only be felt as soul-numbing. It made me walk away without a care in the universe._

At that moment, I didn't consider that I had killed a living being. I wouldn't consider the horror of what I had done until weeks later. Then the guilt would start to keep me awake at night because if I slept then I would dream of what I had done. I wouldn't be able to function during the day because I saw my victims' faces everywhere I turned. And in a few week's time, the Cardassians would decide to teach me the practice of repression.

And what did any of it matter to me?

I finally knew the truth. I finally dealt with a part of my father's death. Someone finally paid for his shed blood and my sorrow. I was only reaching a new level of selfishness that my Cardassian side was begging to advance to. I didn't see where everything about what I was doing was horribly backwards. I wish I had. I could have saved so many lives. Including my own.

But at that moment after Jurin Pitro's death, all that was in my mind were those twelve men and my final chance at revenge.


	24. Ruined GoodByes

**Chapter 24**

**Ruined Good-Byes**

"Sonic frequency, high pitched."

The sonic vibrations drift out instantaneously and buzz against my skin. I slightly buck in reaction to the difference of temperature between my body and the cold air. Yet, no goose-bumps rise up from my flesh. I usually take cold sonic showers as part of my daily routine and the only distinction of today is that I will be departing for Riza.

_Today is it._ _Today, I leave._

The thought makes me pitch forward towards the shower wall with both arms out to support me. My hands easily hold against the tiled surface. With my body spread out so carelessly, I feel the air touch my skin more fervently. It makes me gasp inwardly in a way that causes the back of my throat to hurt. Instinctively, my lungs push out air to soothe my hurting trachea.

Clearing my throat reminds me that I will not be singing anymore and strangely enough, I am disappointed. So unexpectedly disappointed. This occupation that Central Command assigned me to was never supposed to raise such longing in me for other things.

_However, I do wish that I had full reign to want such things. _

My hands feel sore from holding up my frame so I push myself back up to standing position. With that action, not only has my Cardassian posture of being as straight as a rod returned but my Cardassian ideals of never being self-pitying. My lips break into a frown as I scold myself over such weak thoughts.

_I got myself into this. I can get myself out. Everything that has happened is my doing and only mine. _

I find myself speaking my thoughts aloud without any fear of who might hear, "I must do it. I will do it. Cease sonic shower."

At that command, the vibrated cleansing ends. I run my hands through my hair unconsciously, despite the fact that it was never wetted. I do miss the usage of water to cleanse myself. One memory that I hold dear is that of my grandmother taking me to the river near her home to bath at dawn. There is no experience more refreshing than that of a cold bath in a flowing green river while greeting the sun with opened palms.

_The freezing liquid washing over me. I had shivered from the cold but my grandmother had always had a firm hold on my hand. She always worried that I would be swept away by the current. My feet would sink deeply through the sandy bank. Green leafed willows and fuzzy cattails swayed lightly with the slow breeze in the air. I remember smelling wild mint. Then the sun would rise and dazzle the water-_

A chime crashes through my recollections.

"Who is it?" I quickly ask while heading for my clothing, which thankfully, I had left on the bed.

A crisp voice smoothly answers back to me, "On occasion, we have lunch, and you have heard me comment that Bizet's _Habanera_ should always be sung in a higher key."

_Julian Bashir._

I throw my underclothes on as quickly as possible. They slip on without incident then I grab the blue silk dress. I pull it over my head then smooth down the cloth over the rest of my figure. My eyes check my reflection in the mirror on the wall opposite of my bed.

_Clean and dressed. I can fix everything else when he leaves._

I sprint into the other room with my hair down and a small bundle of anxiety inside, "Come in."

The doors open with a welcoming hiss and upon their opening, the human doctor immediately steps through. His teal and black Starfleet uniform fits quite nicely on his long thin frame as usual. Then I see that radiant smile of thin lips and perfect teeth come out to meet me as I correct him from across the room.

"Habanera was designed for a mezzo-soprano. Not a coloratura. Even you can't deny that it does have more flavor when sung in a fuller and _lower_ tone."

A cheeky tone exits out of the handsome man, "Yes, Erica. But, if you listen to the other recordings, I am sure that you will note how much more _fascinating_ the song becomes."

I shake my head to express amusement at his words then offer him a seat, although I choose to remain standing. The young human seats himself in a graceful manner that I seldom see in others, I noticed this upon our first meeting. I do enjoy Julian's company. Not as the other females on this station do, there is no romantic feeling between us, but the good doctor has grown on me.

"You look well." His brown skin slightly dimples around his mouth when he says this. As though it were a reassurance to himself that I was well.

"Thank you, Julian," I tease him with friendly suspicion, "Is this a house call then?"

Then I note the uncertainty. He is searching for an excuse, I can sense it in his soft voice, "I just heard that you were leaving the station today and thought that perhaps I should check on you before your journey."

Something isn't quite fitting into this. My last encounter with Julian Bashir was last week at a luncheon with Garak. I suffer a sudden spasm in my hand which uncontrollably causes me to lean forward in a defensive stance. _Garak is suspicious, so he's sent the doctor._

"I feel fine, Julian."

His cinnamon brown eyes are alerted by my posture but he is not afraid. It is nothing like fear. No, as I peer deeper into those gentle eyes, all I can see is the concern that one would have for a friend. I almost choke with displeasure over the sentiment.

_Humans are so sensitive._

"You seem as though you are well," He agrees with a slow nod of the head then I see the common medical inquires coming to his mind before he even says, "How are you sleeping?"

"Wonderfully."

"Loss of appetite?"

"I eat three meals a day and then some."

"What about fatigue? Nausea? Or-"

I lay a hand on his shoulder and use the other to express my own concern, "What is this, Julian? You came here with your usual argument over opera then there's this sudden unease over my health. Why don't you just scan me if you're so worried?"

"That was going to be my next suggestion." Lightly clamors Julian before he suddenly holds up a gleaming tricorder which had somehow escaped my attention and he starts passing it over my stiff figure, "No fever, or any symptoms of major discomfort…."

He continues to murmur quietly to no one in particular as I sharply cross my arms to show my annoyance while my mind wanders off from the current situation.

_So, Garak has worries about my health_.

I should have estimated that the Cardassian would have been suspicious about my hasty departure. I must have seemed like some raving human female when I rushed off. Just the interruption of his generous offer alone must have been very odd to him. Yet, there is something very pleasant about the idea of Garak feeling worried over me. My heart rate quickens when I think of Garak going to Dr. Bashir and begging him to check up on me. The idea is not entirely impossible. It would be quite _Cardassian_ of him to try to show his affection through more practical ways such as this.

"Well, there you have it," Proclaims Julian with a triumphant grin, "Erica, you are granted a clean bill of health."

"And I expected no less, Julian."

The young human smirks happily as he closes the tiny flap of the gray tricoder then leans his body back in his seat with one leg crossed over the other. I have to smile at the youthful vivacity of Julian Bashir. It is as though nothing can break his young naivety. Well, if not his naivety, then certainly nothing can evade that sweet smile.

"You have yet to sit down, Erica." He states out loud as though that observation alone could diagnose me, "Have I come at a bad time?"

"Actually, I ha-"

Both of us exert a small jump when the door chime sounds off.

_Now who is it?_

Julian's shoulders rise in a shrug of confusion when I look at him questioningly. My brows arch in suspicion as I utter in caution, "Come in."

I feel my heartbeat rise as the doors open then the beating halts slightly when Captain Sisko is revealed in the doorway. The older human male marches lightly into the room without a word. I take in the sight of Benjamin Sisko approaching.

The captain is marked with dark skin, a descendant of those humans once known as Africans. Surprisingly, no wrinkle appears on his serious brow except for the deeply carved indentations that appears whenever Benjamin decides to open his smile. Often, his expression of self ranges from pleasant to cut-throat. The broad shoulders and thick muscled body make him a very impressionable figure to whomever he encounters. Benjamin can be ruthless, no doubt, but with his clean cut appearance and easygoing manner, it seems that rarely does he ever fully rise to the occasion. I have estimated his height to be around 185 cm, which means that he is several inches taller than me. However, I have no fear of the human captain. Especially, when he is currently approaching me with such a welcoming reception.

Benjamin's arms wrap around me in a gentle hug, "I've heard that you are leaving today?"

_I'm going to miss you too, Ben._

Fondness makes my arms slightly squeeze him around the shoulders before I release him, "Ah, yes. I will leave for Riza by midday."

Although I have let go of him, Benjamin still grasps my shoulders with both hands. His grip is almost as demanding as his tone, "Such a shame."

"Yes, it is."

His necks turns away from me as does his attention, and it lands on the forgotten doctor. I look at Julian as well and see a small smirk appear on his small mouth. He claps his hands together then speaks rapidly, "It seems, Captain, that you have come at a perfect time. I was just about to return to sick bay."

Julian's smooth hands reach for mine and I take his in warm companionship, "You will see me off, won't you?"

The sweet doctor nods in a swift but cordial manner then makes the same motion to the caption and afterwards, departs through the metal doors in a dignified exit.

I wave at his exit, despite the fact that he has disappeared already. Although, the mood seems peaceful and warm. Inside, I feel cold. Empty at Julian's quick departure and his dismal promise to accompany me. This is truly the end of my stay here on DS9.

_I wonder if Garak will be there to say goodbye as well?_

My legs give off a jump and a chill sweeps over my body as Sisko murmurs, "He certainly seemed in a hurry."

Suddenly, I realize that my lone hand is still up in the air. Dropping it in embarrassment and not wanting Sisko to see my exposed sentiment, I speak out loud without turning to him, "It seems so. Julian was only here to check on my health."

"I hope that I haven't disturbed anything important."

"Not at all. Just a short check-up."

His arms push me towards the couch with gentle insistence. I allow him lead me to the chair where I slowly sit and watch him take a seat to the side of me. Hesitance and good nature can be tasted in the air. Benjamin Sisko has something to say, and it seems as though words of wisdom are coming.

"You know, Erica, I remember when I was your age," Sisko suddenly sputters as though he had been bursting to say this ever since he had came in, "Having every moment bursting with opportunity and being able to come and go freely."

His face gleams of old memories and something like wishful thinking. Such spontaneity makes me smile as well, "You make it sound like some grand adventure."

"It should be," The child-like gleam disappears with the lowering of his voice, "This part of your life should be something to look back on and be satisfied with. Tell me, Erica, what do you plan for the next few years?"

_Anything but this. Someone find Entek and tell him to vaporize me._

"Umm," My mouth parts and closes with nothing coming out. I need to get out of this conversation without insulting anyone, "Only music."

"Have you ever thought of joining Starfleet?"

"Not since I left Earth. I am sorry to say, but I am not of the uniformed persuasion."

The captain bellows his laugh lazily. Somewhat wheezy and high-pitched but a comfortable sound nonetheless. His breath moves in and out of his body so rapidly that I can spot the movement of his heaving chest through the uniform.

_For heaven's sake, it wasn't that funny._

I keep that inner note to myself. He is the captain of the station after all and I have no desire to be waylaid.

"Maybe you're not," agrees Sisko through his humorous fit, "I've been trying to convince Jake to go the Academy but he seems just as resilient as you."

"Hmm, perhaps that isn't what he is meant to do."

I wander off on that comment and wait for his reply. My sight had turned away from him when I was speaking. I don't want to see his eyes turn irritated or frosty towards me but he should think about such things.

_His son is lucky to live in a society that allows him such freedom in his life's choices. If he were Cardassian, he would be a soldier no matter what he wants._

My thinking drifts away to memories of my military training. Sprinting across long stretches of endless red deserts seems to be the major component of what I can remember as part of survival tactics. My feet twitch around on the carpet at the thought of blisters and hot sand.

My first defense instructor taught me the techniques of Cardassian martial arts but after a week of training, I realized that there was a very good reason why most Cardassians would rather negotiate than battle. Cardassian hand to hand combat is more of a game than anything else. I was once very skeptical of Cardassians being the harsh warriors that they tried to portray but once I understood their philosophy then it all became clear.

"_Those whom can avoid it are the better warriors."_

Dresik once told me that. I thought that he was teasing me but once those shining blue eyes turned bland and serious, I realized that he definitely was not joking. Cardassians do not try to be violent. Well, at least, not as violent as most races. Humans, in fact, seem much more prone to harming others than the Cardassians as far as I have been able to observe for these last few months.

"If I can't change your mind," offers a robust tone from a Starfleet captain whom I have forgotten is still in the room.

Sisko towers up into his usual persona of human politeness and following him as he rises towards the door, I stand as well, "You can't but your advice will always be welcomed, Captain."

His kind eyes seem to glisten at the corners but then as quickly as they appear, the shining liquid vanishes. I hold his positive glance with my own grinning expression. I really do respect this human. He is a good man. No skepticism on that issue. I almost lose my smile when he offers his hands to me in a manner that demonstrates exactly how much of an honorable man he is.

Unsurely, my hand creeps out and holds onto to his. At least, it seems as though I am merely holding on to his hand. Inside, it feels like I have a one last death-grip on my one last connection to the human side of myself. Even though I can not admit it aloud, it is true that Benjamin Sisko embodies every bit of decent humanity that I do not. After no more than three seconds, I slip my hand from his. Something very uncomfortable was rising in the pit of the of my stomach when I touched him.

_Something that was saying, "Traitor."_

Captain Sisko nods in a silent motion which leaves my breath breaking up in my throat. A shy nod is the only reasonable response that I can do. I force my chin to dip to the base of my neck than my artificial green eyeballs raise themselves back up to his genuine brown ones. I should say something meaningful.

_Something from the heart._

My hands reach out again to grab his as my lips try for, "Captain, I will miss-"

Then I am cut off. A chime rips the words right out of my mouth. Unthinkingly, I snap roughly to the open air, "Who is it?"

I notice Sisko's brows scrunch together in something like surprise and perhaps, confusion. Mostly surprised. I apologize silently in shame and thankfully, his face relaxes. We both stand quietly in waiting for a reply from the stranger outside the door. Then his astonishment returns when an answer comes through the comm system.

"Only a dear acquaintance wishing to say farewell."

_Bloody wonderful. __**Garak**__ is here. Of course, __**he**__ is going to ruin my __**one**__ sentimental __**human**__ moment._

A silence peals out uneasily. I glare at the door in indecision. If I let him in then it is practically guaranteed that Sisko will leave without hearing what I want to say but if I don't allow Garak access then Sisko will probably let the Cardassian in. So, accepting that having both of these people in the same room is more than inevitable, I will allow fate to take its toll, "Come in."

The doors open as the words depart from my lips. If the situation were not so tense than I would bursting inside myself with restlessness and that usual feeling of something spinning in my stomach. But, not for this moment. Not while Sisko stands beside me with arms bound tightly behind his back in formal standing which some might view as hostile. Nor will my usual passion-held moment occur as Elim Garak bounds into my quarters in his straight-backed and graceful prance.

"Ah, Captain Sisko," greets Garak with a polite and crisp tone as he sweeps into the room to take my hand in his, "Have you also come to say farewell to Erica?"

Sisko's eyes peer over his serious expression in quiet criticism of Garak's sudden contact with me. I can see what the human captain thinks of the Cardassian tailor's affections towards me. Disappointed in me and unnerved by Garak. Of course, if only the captain knew that Garak was only acting on his Cardassian background and not on any romantic feeling.

"Yes, I did. Garak" retorts Sisko, "But I must go now. A captain's duties never rest."

"Of course not, Captain," Garak agrees in a humble tone, "Do not worry though. I will keep dear Erica company."

I almost weep when Sisko with carefully hidden snideness says, "I have no doubt on that, Garak."

The Captain sweeps out of the room with a small bow, leaving my conscience with quiet regret.


	25. Sweet Dream

Author's note: Been quite busy for a couple of years now. Finishing up college and all kinds of interesting ventures. This story is quite long and I really didn't want to abandon it because of all the wonderful comments that people have made over my little hiatus. I was glad to hear that people were still reading and wanting to know the ending. Because of that, I have come back and am ready to continue.

Thank you to everyone.

)0()0()0()0()0()0(

A ship passes neatly by the window. The shape and color of the ship brand it as a Bajoran transporter. From my window, I watch it descend gracefully down to Bajor. The yellow glow of the engines pulsate in an eerie show of good-bye as the ship goes further and further away. I feel my hands twitch at my side in reply.

A horrible habit of mine. I can never seem to stop moving. Whether it is my hands, my feet, or my face. I always seem to have this unending need to be mobile. Especially, when I am caught in awkward situations such as these.

Garak is here. Alone with me. For the last time.

We face each other. Something akin to opponents awaiting battle on some desolate arena. Although, the question is not who will win but what is to be sought from such a battle.

Those lonely eyes watch my own survey. I know that he never misses a single detail. Especially, when it comes to other beings. If the arm that is hanging at my side twists to expose the inside of my wrist, Garak's sight will rest there. His oceanic eyes will criticize the coloring and bulge of my veins against my skin. The movement of tendons beneath bronze flesh. Then he will estimate the thought that was taken in that action of my limb. In my mind, I believe that he never allows any detail to go unnoticed.

However, I am not so different. I seek out every feature of him. Both external and internal. I am doing it out of desperation and loss. I don't want to forget Garak. Not a single part of him must be lost to my mind. How his thick locks which always seem to bend to his will and submit to be put in a dark sophisticated look. The thick build of his chest and arms. The gentleness and grace of his tailor's hands. The taste of his clothes. Elegant, simple, and fine.

"You have not fully dressed yet," observes Garak in a suggestive rumbling voice, "Does that mean that you have not already packed everything?"

"I had company on such short notice. First, Julian. Then Captain Sisko. I had no time to finish dressing."

"You are very popular on the station," the Cardassian notes as I move to the bedroom, "Perhaps, you should consider not leaving behind so many dear associates."

I freeze in the doorway at what his words hint at. My back is turned to him so he can not see how I feel. The tension in my cheeks and lips tell me that I am beguiled by his meaning. Tentatively, I continue on my way while speaking, "I must go. It is time to move on and continue my wanderings."

"My dear, is that all this is? Wandering?"

"I like wandering. Going wherever I please and doing as I wish," my hands push through my bag's contents in avoidance to meeting his stare, "Did you never just travel simply to be in a different place, Garak?"

His voice falls heavily in my ears as his hands rest on my roaming ones, "Perhaps, a change in pace might interest you. Staying in one place for an allotted amount of time would certainly be a change."

"I don't think so, Garak." I continue my rummaging despite my own desire to hold his icy fingers, "I need to go."

A warm feeling waves down on me from the weight of his hands on my own. An inclination to push back against him urges itself on me. I must not react. I will not react. If I do then I might stay

Neither of us seem to be interested in even attempting to hold onto the conversation. Instead, I try to forget that he is here with me. That this could easily be the last time that those particular Cardassian eyes ever make contact with mine. I must not dwell on what could have been. Only focus on what is.

_Go on. Don't allow him to stop you._

"You will see that this was all for the best."

I keep my words mellow and lowered. I have to make him believe that I am relaxed and completely in control of what I am deciding. If he sees even the smallest bit of uncertainty, he will prey on it. I must get away as soon as possible. These thoughts that he causes me to have are so unsettling. Nonchalantly, I pull my brush out of the bag to finish dressing.

His chilling reply follows me as I leave the room, "Or, the worst."

I hold my brush with dread. Every swipe through my hair is taking me closer to Entek and further away from Garak. If only one could stop the universe and change everything then there would be no chance of "worst." My hands fumble around the black strands as I try to style it for the day. Twisting and pulling and because I am so frantic; breakage occurs.

Mumbling over my injury, I twirl the broken strands around my fingers then reach for my brush again. Then I freeze as I feel another presence in the space. I know he has stepped behind me. I can more than feel him.

As he exhales, the moisture from his warm breath clings to my skin. My limbs are locked in place. Yet my body wants to lean back into his. I want to be as close to him as the air from his lungs is to me. I want to cover every area of his flesh with my breath. This want is torturous but so sumptuously ideal.

_So many ideas and all of them are sensuously Cardassian._

Looking up into the mirror, I see Garak's calm demeanor. It appears that he feels nothing. No fire. No shivering. No loss of self-control. Guilty at having such feelings while he has none, I look down again for my brush.

"Are you having difficulties?" He asks politely.

The question hardly needs an answer. He knows that I am but I think that he's looking for a some other explanation. Something that is closer to a confession. As though I could ever confess the thoughts that were just in my head.

I hide my blush as more "sensuous Cardassian" thoughts tug at my mind, "Of course not. I never have difficulties."

"I would never expect anything less then perfection from you, my dear," that hesitant pause brings my gaze back to his small smile, "But as our favored doctor says, "Everyone has their days."

"If that is so then today might be one of those days."

"Upon that admission, may I be of assistance?"

_Why must he ask questions like this? With such damned expressiveness as well. Especially, when it seems that it would be rude of me to refuse._

Unsurely, I raise the brush up towards my shoulder. From the mirror, I watch his right hand rise gracefully up and gently grasp the top. Then with something similar to a look of pleasure, he begins with light strokes.

I could never tire of watching him. The laced movements of his hands. To look at them, one does not see gentleness nor an artisan's hand. But what captures me is the possibilities that can come from those limbs. The gray skin that covers them is not gruff in their texture but as smooth as polished stone. Easily, the small bones can be seen as his fingers avert their hold.

He pushes slowly through the strands. His sight rests on my hair as it parts and closes around the bristles of the brush. My eyes close at the care he is showering me with.

My mind stretches over so many thoughts of him. Images of his cool lips touching lightly on mine. His voice whispering all that I hope he has been imagining. Dark and passionate thoughts to match my own. I can dream of the thrill that his voice would carry in black tones of desire and how the sound would carry from my ears to my body. My imagination begins to run away with me until it's too much for me. I push my eyelids to open but it seems that I have simply tripped into another trap.

My glance touches upon the mirror and in its reflection, he is looking at me. No, it is more than mere looking. His gaze is devouring. Overpowering. If I didn't know better, I would think that he has gone insane with his hungry stare.

Both us are frozen in wonder at each other. Holding one another's attentions, while not wanting to break this sudden connection. My breath feels as though it has been held for hours when his voice finally comes through.

The tone feels almost aching, "Erica. I- I must go."

The handle of brush touches my shoulder. Obviously, he is avoiding any physical contact. The moon colored hand at his side is clenched as is his jaw. Something akin to nervousness grabs my heart and throws me out of the chair to pursue him.

"Garak! Wait!" I see how my words hardly do little to stop him. The normally bold Cardassian now is escaping towards the entryway. Planning to chase after, I bound forward across the carpet.

Then his steps halt. His shoulders pull in and out with the breathes of his lungs. His body appears disturbed. His stance makes me uneasy in how tense he is holding himself.

_What should I do?_

Ideas yank each other through the cortex of my brain as I attempt to come up with an ideal way to solve whatever this problem is. My hands hold themselves together unsurely as though I would want nothing to come between my f- No, between Garak and me. I do not want to be his friend. I never have.

My hand reaches out to lay on his dark purple tunic. The fabrics tightens on every inhale as I lean close-

"It would be wise of you to not do that, my dear." That tone. Instantly, I dare not go further. Such firm ferocity is emanating from him but not hostility. My logic tells me not to disobey his wishes but something else urges me to do as I feel.

"When you first arrived on the station, you befriended me," I can practically hear the racing beat of his heart as Garak faces me with an unknown coldness that I've never encountered from him, "Why?"

My eyes try to reflect some control as though I can rewind this odd situation while I try to answer coolly, "You dressed well."

"As much as I admire your wit, my dear, you will have to do much better then that," He starts moving around the room in slow measured steps, "Did you think that I ignore the things that happen on this station? That any event slips past me? And that you are any different?"

Admittedly confused, I question him, "I don't understand, Garak. What exactly are you implying?"

"I was hoping to eliminate the usual repartees of this kind of situation, however if you insist." His arms slip behinds his back as he continues on, "In the beginning, my dear Erica, I suspected that you were from my home planet. Your infallible mannerisms and remarkably superior grasp of practically anything you laid your hands on was the tip that had me question you. After all, it couldn't be coincidence that an idealistically lovely female just happens to wander into my midst with such-"

A pause. In his eyes, I see the anger that he holds for me. The shock and outrage of someone who's been tricked. Someone who's been promised a dream that turns out to be a nightmare. The word that he can not say holds itself in his mouth. I can see it and it is still waiting to be said, despite this silence. It is a moment for me to defend myself against this that he has provided if I wish to do so. Yet, instead of spouting a string of heated explanations to him, I choose to sit.

I make my way to the closest piece of furniture as Garak wages his vocal attack on my ears, "Then you brought more surprises. You are not a Cardassian."

My eyes, which were cemented to the flat carpet, carry to him with blankness.

"Yes. You are not a Cardassian or a Romulan or a Bajoran. You are actually what you claimed to be. A human." I jump a little when he chuckles sarcastically, "More than that, you have family in Star Fleet. A grandmother who is a doctor for the Federation who happens to stop by my shop and strangely enough, is searching for you."

Something burns itself in my throat. I hold my hands together in a silent pose of passive prayer. Even though all that he is saying is plausible and more than likely deserved. Because I do deserve everything that is coming. His suspicion and distrust and perhaps, even his menace. But it does not stop me from being outraged by his accusations. Because I do care fo-

"That night that I entered your quarters was not just a social visit." States Garak calmly, "I was there to search your room and then to invite you out. I was absolutely sure that I would find something to tie you to some plot. Anything to show that you were not who you said you were."

Moving to the center of the room and my direct line of vision, his volumes changes with his position and rises, "You defended yourself that evening. That factor added to this suspicion I have of you. Not very well, my dear if I do say, but nonetheless. It helped shape what I had been thinking. Then as we had our dinner, I sat there examining the situation."

Indifferently, I nod for him to go on.

"Everything about you could and would later on be verified. Your friendliness was certifiably sincere. Your profession allowed you to have familiarity in your past at different locations. Then as I watched you and your grandmother at Quark's on that same night, I knew who you were."

_He knows._

Still, I keep my position and hold his forceful gaze.

"You are exactly who you say you are, Erica Steele," A held breath that I wasn't aware of flows quietly from my lips when I hear his words, "Which is, in actuality, a very dangerous thing to be. Your extraordinary honesty of self could be taken advantage of. I do not trust such behavior nor do I believe that it is possible."

"But you just admitted that I am who I say I am." Finally, my voice returns to me even if it seems bruised and slow.

He smiles grimly, "Yes, but you can not expect me to truly trust such antics."

Sighing both in relief and in amazement, I decided to get to the bottom of this, "Garak, what is the point of all this? You don't wish for me to leave because you seem to consider me a friend of sorts, yet you don't trust me. You claim that I am exactly who I am claiming to be but that it can not be possible. Frankly, I don't know what all of this is for."

"Exactly, my dear. You are an enigma. An enjoyable one, true, but one all the same."

"So, although I am perfectly open and honest to you. Even if you know everything about me. You are saying that I am still deceptive in some way or another." My arms cross over each other as I stand up to this baffling discussion, "Garak, are you flirting with me?"

"Of course not," He denies in an offended manner, "Erica, although there are many compliments that I honor you with. There are also many other things to consider and those are why a relationship of that type would not be wise."

I raise a finger in protest, "Let me guess. I am too young and naïve."

"Do you not consider that it would be tiresome to have to carry on with this?"

"Garak, you are the one who felt the need to lay your thoughts out onto the floor so allow me the same."

Then I see it. The is the opportunity. This my chance to act on what I am feeling and possibly, I might be able to resolve this.

Seizing the attention that he is giving, I walk around him at a very intimate distance, "Yes, I am young but I will grow. I may be naïve in some areas of expertise but I will learn. However, you are still learning and growing as I am. You are just at a different time in your life."

"A candid observation." His lips purse in a thin line as though this is not how he was planning things to go.

"And I scare you."

"I beg your pardon, my dear?"

"I frighten the wits out of you, quaint Garak." Clicking the "k" in his name sends a visible shiver through his spine that all too easily makes me smile, "I am something that you have little experience in and I think that makes you very ill at ease. Even hostile."

Garak's spine tenses up as he prepares his words for battle but I cut him off even before his vocal cords stretch, "Do not deny it. I know that it is what you consider a weakness. Any affection towards anything can be used against you by anyone and you do not like to be vulnerable."

Those dark eyes that have mesmerized me so much in past are now somehow bedazzled by me. I must say that I am pleased by all of this. I know how "arousing" complexities can be for Cardassians and even if he is not aware of it, I am just as in sync with this as he is. I do understand his fears and hesitations.

What we are has no true form in the human world. Maybe at one time, when the lines of propriety and morality were still being largely defined by the idea of sinners and saints. I would never imply that humans have solved that dark and irresistible urge to do wrong. No, for it is only too apparent in myself. Especially, at this moment. But what I know is that most would look down upon Garak and myself.

Not because I am human and he is Cardassian. But because I am me. I am a liar and a killer. I would act upon a simple command to wreck the lives of millions. Being here has not changed that about me when, perhaps, it should have. Ideally, some form of humanity should have crept into my soul and made me into a good person. That did not happen.

Nor did it happen upon Garak. He is just as despicable in anyone else's eyes as I should be. His crimes are parallel to mine. We are the dangerous and cruel means to an end that most people will not do because of the stigma of being "evil."

However, the weak do not survive in the universe if they are not willing to do whatever is possible. That is a truth that one knows all too well. And if this were a perfect place then those that are wicked would never rise to power or experience anything of satisfaction. I should not be allowed to speak or touch him. He should never have the consent to gaze upon me.

_The evil are not worthy of happiness is that not what they say?_

I did not notice how close I had come to the seemingly quiet Cardassian until my hand brushed his as I passed behind him. Expecting him to immediately pull back, I leave myself there. A beat passes. One, two, then several.

He has not moved. Our flesh presses softly to one another in offered temptation. Calmly, I step around him while allowing my fingers to graze over his wrist.

Uncharacteristically, his fingers snatch upon me and pull me up to against his girth. My limbs press harshly into him as we hold together at a tantalizing length. The physical strength that I didn't estimate clenches painfully into my shoulders as the air turns tight and restrained inside me.

"Garak."

It sounds like I am pleading but whether to be released or not is unclear. Cardassian eyes peer at me. Appraising, condemning, and through it all, questioning.

That familiar reaction of a warmth in my lower abdomen heightens at the physical nearness of him. It grows as I taste his breath in the air. Sweet and warm.

"Erika."

I drop my stare to his neck. The luminous gray skin wraps so tightly around muscle, bone, and nerve. The scales that dot the skin call for my lips in their slight gray. I know that he is watching my examination of him with endless fascination. Slowly, I wet my lips then take the lower one between my teeth in a teasing motion.

Those Cardassian features remain petrified as I take my time. My palm spreads over his chest and slides up to his shoulder. A small exhale of enjoyment passes from him to me. I can imagine that the heavy cloth he wears only make my caress feel like a tiny tickle but it makes everything all the more tempting between us. Inch by inch, coffee toned hands trail towards moon-lit flesh.

"My dear, you are quite persistent. However," Garak grabs my hands just as they were skimming his low collar. "This is but a dream."

"I don't understand. What do you mean, Garak?"

His contorts in anger. The sharp clench of his jaw makes me uneasy. His voice even sounds different when he grimly speaks, "Do not use that braggart's name. _Human."_

No. That voice isn't new to me. I've heard it many times before but how is it coming from Garak's lips? My mind reels at the possibilities of this phenomena. There's only one action to take: resist. My arms lock up in thrashing movements. Legs aiming for vulnerability in their quick kicks. Even teeth are drawn as I fight back.

Then as swiftly I started, I realize a new horror. I can not move my limbs. His fingers drop my wrists. As their weight plummets to my side, my body follows. The ground comes up and slightly knocks the wind out of me.

Paralyzed. That is the only word that can be applied to me. Nothing can be moved. The dark carpet scratches my cheek and my saliva pools in my mouth. Swallowing both my body's liquid and the breathe of life, I watch black boots step around me. One nudges me in the ribs then with a small lift pushes me onto my back.

The light causes him to shadow over me with a smug glare.

"It is time to wake up." He stands so high up but I swear that he whispering against my ear.

Slowly, vision starts to blur. Blobs of light and color fill my sight. The sudden need to sleep overtakes me as I bid my farewell to the universe and hope that this is no more than a nightmare.

_What have you done, Entek?_


	26. Cardassian Mirror

**Cardassian Mirror**

"Agent Yaval, can you hear me?"

A new voice. Male. Old, and if my nose is correct, then also a Cardassian.

Hands touch upon my forehead. They press gently with purpose. Then move on to my neck. A strange sensation runs down my spine. How peculiar. That shiver that eruptes when he touches my neck is so similar t-

"Her neck ridges are now responsive. Heart rate increased upon contact." A finger traces my eye lid before pulling it open, "Eye color and sight are restored."

The pressure of this Cardassian's thumb and the dark surroundings make me turn my head away. Tendons snap as I glance from side to side. I have absolutely no idea where I am at.

Low steel walls. Barren. The ceiling is quite low, practically in touching range. A small mirror without a frame stands next to blackened hallway. Taking in a deeper breath, I smell the acrid scent of rust and sweat. The back of my palms flinch from freezing steel alongside the bed. My arms are strapped to the table by some sort of force field. There is not a chance of getting off of this table without some assistance. After my lame struggle, I look towards my examiner.

His sight is so solid and hard as it rests on me. This is a not kindhearted individual. Aged skin sags under his chin. The ridges on his forehead protrude in an unattractive manner. No, not necessarily the ridges but his bone structure is not symmetrical. One cheekbone is at least a half centimeter higher. The only youthful trait that he holds is a lean physique with defined shoulders. My gaze follows down his cobalt tunic to the phaser at his hip. It's not a Cardassian model. Breen, if I am correct. That means that he is probably not a soldier. Already, I count the different actions that can be taken to disarm him and make my escape.

"I have already mended your neck ridges from previously." I detect a warning in his voice then he confirms it sharply, "It would be quite the shame if something else happened to you."

A wave of defiance sweeps through my veins. How tempting it would be to break his neck and send his head to his family. I mean, how dare he speak to me like that?

_As though I were common trash off of the street._

I simply swallow in response to his threat and dehydration than I rasp weakly. "Who are you?"

"Zuril Q'ilik."

I can only deduce that he feels as though I won't try anything because he turns his back to me. A small table lays no more than three feet away from my bed. Instruments cover it from one end to the other. Dermal regenerators, a Federation tricorder, and quite a few more. The only thing that they have in common is that they all can be used for medical purposes in some way or another.

"Are you a doctor?"

Without turning around, he gruffly answers, "No."

His tone immediately signals for me to cease my questioning. I watch his elbows move in tandem with each other as he tinkers with one of the devices. The sound of metal hitting metal converses meticulously. I suppose that he is concentrating, however it is impertinent that I get out of here. I don't know where I am and he appears to be the only one that might be of any use. Even though it seems as though he is not going to give too much information away.

_This has to be the first time that I met a Cardassian who isn't willing to start a conversation._

"May I have some water?" This is more a question of his character than a plea for my raging thirst.

"I apologize but you will have to wait."

The ceiling is as dark and gray as the rest of the room. Yet, it's less straining to stare at that then to try to make eye contact with this stranger. His persona is quite blank to me with his shabby clothes and haggard face. I can't sense anything other than aloofness when I look over him. He is more similar to these rotting walls than to anything else. Than a more disturbing idea enters into my psyche.

_Did he say that I had neck ridges?_

The sole mirror is on the other side of the room. I have no idea how to verify what I believe has been done. I can only hope that Zuril might be in the mood for a little charity.

Slowly, I ask in small breaks of words, "May I. Please. See myself?"

His noir eyesight brushes against mine like sand against a blade. Sliding and scratching in conflict but smoothing against my resolve to see myself. I can see the hesitance in revealing what the procedure has done to me but within another moment, he crosses the room.

The mirror is at least two feet in width and length. His hands trace its edges before lightly lifting it from its perch. Spinning it around, he walks towards me in a silent march.

The reflection holds only the legs of the bed as he approaches. Then bit by bit, the sight reveals the gray base of the bed. A dark cloth covering. A gray hand. My stomach flips in nausea at the sight of Cardassian flesh than I gather more unease as a scaled abdomen starts to show. The reflection only confirms what I had been dreading as it travels up my torso than finally halts at my face.

A young Cardassian woman lays flattened and weak against a bed. That is what I see. I do not see myself. I cannot be this pretty face with its thin sloping nose and spoon-indented forehead. My cheeks are sharpened and delicately pebbled with small scales. Ridges line around my jaw. A larger spoon-like hollow sits at the base of my throat. Large silver neck ridges lay like huge mountains from shoulder to shoulder.

_What have they done to me?_

I try again to raise my arms against the energized restraints. Not even a muscle twitch.

"Do not worry. Everything is in order." He takes the mirror away and places it back ceremoniously. "Your features are not as changed as you assume. You are merely your Cardassian equivalent."

"How long have I been unconscious?"

I hadn't noticed but he moves with a slight limp on his left side. Zuril returns to his table and continues stiffly with, "Approximately thirteen days."

"Under what condition was I brought here?"

The sentence is tightly lipped as I begin to shift through my memories of the last few days. It blurs into my meeting with Entek than saying good bye to the people on the Terek Nor but I know that my encounter with Garak was only a dream. So, I cannot count that as a viable memory.

I don't notice that Zural is next to me until he speaks through my stupor, "I do not know how you were 'acquired.' I was under instruction only to modify your appearance and then to release you as soon as you had recovered."

A small gust of suspicion blows through me. Something that he had mentioned earlier. "Why did you mend my neck ridges?"

Instead of looking at me, he stares at my neck. "There was a small incident yesterday."

"What kind of incident?"

I know that sentiment in his eyes. Shame. Not at himself but someone else. It becomes more apparent when Zuril's voice breaks across the damp air. "You were having an episode of psychosis when you injured yourself. I believe that it was caused by the-

"I would assume that you have had me restrained for this entire time." I shoot out suddenly with ferocity, "How could I have injured myself?"

His strong jaw clenches and unclenches in insult.

"I apologize." Despite his hateful presence at my words, I detect a small inch of forgiveness in his stance so I go on with what I believe had truly happened, "Entek came here to see how things were progressing, didn't he?"

Immediately, a corner across the lab becomes his new target for quiet glowering. I won't wait for him to answer. I will just take his silence as a sign of agreement.

"He came here. I was in a state of psychosis as you have said and he took advantage of that."

More shame creeps into his features. Cardassians never like to admit when their fellow countrymen commit crimes of such a low degree. Even I feel a little bit of that shame for Zuril. Entek must have been someone that he had much respect for until that moment. I can only imagine his shock at the sight of Entek and I struggling in whatever manner that was taking place.

"Did he cut me-"

Zuril finally makes eye contact and somehow, that glaze of emptiness stills me into silence. His lips flutter like the dying wings of a butterfly. Slowly, the sullenness is killed by disgust.

"You were bitten." He takes a deep gust of wind and practically blows the rest out in a hushed breath. "You had broken his nose by jerking your head forward. I assume that he was…..paying attention to your neck ridges when you hit him. He bit you for your insolence."

My eyebrows are raised so high that I believe I might have strained a facial muscle. I recognized the feeling of surprise and shock being written on my features as I was listening to Zuril. I was not expecting such actions from Entek. This "attack" is quite crude and unrestrained. I have known him to be calculating and quite careful in confrontations. There is a factor in this situation that I am not privy to at the moment.

The stem of his boldness. What is causing it? His usual pleasure has always been caused by the mental torture he gives to his victims. Destroying us with his words and finding ways to send us to our deaths with intravenous plots from within our own circles.

_What does he want?_

While trapped in my own maze of plots and betrayal, I forget that Zuril is still in the room. This barely heated and barren room where I am being held captive. Immediately, it comes to my attention that I should try to turn the conversation around for my escape. As well as to cut the tension from all of these revealing details.

"If you are not a doctor than what is your field?"

He had turned back to the panel at the side of my bed when I was lost in thought. His fingers travel languidly over the control panel as one does over the surface of cool water. The buttons appear and disappear in a rapid pattern against his palms. Then he moves slower. The lights move in a muted rhythm until finally Zuril answers in an unexpectedly humored voice.

"I was a geneticist. For many years, I worked independently and in private," The eyes never blink or leave my face. "I was working towards creating different treatments and cures for our most crippling diseases on Cardassia."

His story unfolds itself like fine Bajoran linen but I see the wrinkles and folds. The possibility of such a Cardassian working alone without some authority from Central Command or the Order is not a believable one. Cardassian rogue scientists are not unheard of but they are as rare as a Breen without a mask.

"How did you work undetected?" I ask because I have to know. I also ask because I might need to operate independently soon enough.

Air draws through the roof of his mouth in a pinched sound and exhales through into a tired tone. "My father owned a restaurant. I inherited it and maintained it. No one thought that a simple chef in a small province was working towards anything so major as developmental diseases."

"But why would a Cardassian like you not work with the military government?" His ragged features lock up into a mask of fatigue at my words. Quickly, I rearrange my meaning to save the conversation, "What I meant is how you would procure what you required for your research. It must have been difficult without the endless resources that our government could provide."

"It is but it is not impossible."

I slowly nod to Zuril for elaboration on the subject.

His large limbs cross over each across his chest before starting, "I bought and traded as much as I could when the proper vendor called. I had many contacts from the academy that were interested and aided me in my research."

His left arm starts to reach under the panel while his other hand taps against the panel but neither interrupts his story. "I fulfilled my duties as a Cardassian citizen. I attended school and did all that was needed. But after my father passed, I decided to work alone. He never liked the military or the Order."

The force fields that hold me slip away like leaves in a wind. Instantly, I feel the difference in my wrists and ankles. As though a heavy steel blanket had raised itself off of me.

My nakedness was forgotten until small goose bumps pluck up on my arms. Sitting up takes more effort than I had predicted and the lower muscles in back shudder at my upward struggle. I try to shield myself by covering my chest with my arms. The attempt makes me even more aware of how many procedures have been performed.

"May I be of some aid?"

Zuril stands by me in awkwardness. His good intention is shown through his quaint open palm, an offering of peace. I stare at his hand in stony meditation. This man has invaded quite a few of my spaces, both physical and personal. I want to feel assaulted and disgusted by him right now but I do not. Instead, I take his hand.

Very gently, he leads me through the open corridor. We walk without anything said. The lighting is only a small fraction brighter than it is from where we departed. The temperature rises only because I am finally in motion. I know that I am still nude but considering how much of my body has been operated on; I doubt that there isn't a single aspect that he hasn't set his eyes upon. However, I notice that he is doing as much as he possibly can to avoid touching more of me than is necessary.

I know that we have turned to the right twice and only to the left on one occasion. It's pathetic but this small stroll is making me dizzy. I find myself pausing with one hand covering my eyes from the ongoing blur of metal and light. His hand pulls only slightly.

"I apologize." The words sound flattened and feeble in my throat. I try to pull more air in but the atmosphere feels strangely thin. I look at him through parted fingers, "How much further?"

"I prepared quarters for you. They are at the end of this hall."

My sight catches the dead end at thirty feet away. It is so close. Yet, in this state, it appears to be miles away. Wistfully, his hands take hold of my shoulders and pull me forward. As I step past him, he whispers.

"I truly do apologize for all of this."

I don't stop to comfort him. In a way, I hope that he suffers minimally for how much he has invaded me. On the other hand, I pause at the door and hear his steps fade when he disappears around the corner. How odd that he has left me with my only thought and it is meant for him.

_Thank you._


	27. Blind to What is Beneath the Scales

**AN: Yes, I am an absolute evil sadist of an author who has kept her loyal readers on hanging on a thread and yes, I do deserve to be jump-kicked off a cliff. JK.**

** The only reason I want to be shoved off of a cliff is because mid-terms are these week! Ugh...Anyways, please enjoy. SMALL WARNING: Ok, I am not a fan of rape/coercion stories. It is in no way part of what I normally write and I must warn though that there is more coercion in this chapter then the actual act. I'm sorry but it went with the story and could not be kept out. If you have an issue then burn me with your flames in the reviews. However, a story about a spy with a past of murder and treachery...yeah, you should not be surprised that I totally went there...but enough with my rantings! On to the story!**

**Blind to What is Beneath the Scales**

Once inside my quarters, I did not dress. I stepped into the sonic shower and stayed there for at least an hour or two. I examined every scale and ridge upon my body. The gray skin, as expected, runs completely from head to toe. A slightly human tone, like the color of a pink seashell, does cover my lips. My hair is back and longer than before. I would even dare to say that it was darkened. No small red undertone, only a death-like black.

I noticed that there were no major changes upon my body shape. My calves and thighs are still enlarged with muscles. My shoulders appear slightly modified with their new ridges but they are essentially the same. Hips, waist, and bosom are still proportional.

_He is correct._

I had mindfully whispered to myself as the sonic vibrations moved all grime from my skin. _I am simply the Cardassian equivalent of myself now._

After that session of self-exploration of my new visage, I strayed weakly to my cot. I never turned the lights on, or even spoke anything aloud. Instead, I covered myself in the stiff sheets and slept. It is a sleep that I have not ever encountered before.

That had to be around four hours ago. But at the moment, my eyes are wrenched shut in meditation. My body is barely holding together, while my thoughts skid by like Bajoran gnats. Biting and irritating.

I had been unconscious for thirteen days and Entek has ordered that by tomorrow, I will capture Kira Nerys. I do not know how any of this is going to come about. I do not understand how I feel so comfortable in this reptile-like skin but my mind is quite far from where it usually strays.

_How did it come to this?_

Silly and childish question. I can not imagine why it mentally hums out loud now in a merry-go-round of conflict. But it does, and I find myself searching through everything that I have learned in order to answer this. No, not answer; that is impossible. I might as well ask, _why would there ever be a need for people like me?_ Another question that is matched to an infinity of retorts.

My hip bones have been pressed against this hard mattress for several hours. The soreness in the region makes me all too aware of how much pain is yet to come. The uncertainty of my future sources for further pain is what makes me cringe and turn over in my barely-held slumber. I keep my eyes closed as I turn onto my back to give my aching abdomen some relief.

_Oh, what a mistake that was_.

I can smell him. He is close, within at least five feet of my bed. I can not comprehend how I didn't notice his presence before. How numbed my senses are. A small sting of unexpected anxiety makes my body jerk. The movement only causes me further anxiousness as I feel the coarse bed sheet slip perilously low on my torso.

_Focus. Breathe. Relax-_

Fingertips brush over my eyelids. They move in a sensual fashion. Sweeping across my cheekbones to my lips. They stop there but do not cease their moving. Circling and circling. A slight swell of heat throbs through the tops of my shoulders. I hold back my grimace at the odd sensation.

Something has been modified inside of me indefinitely. This "feeling" of fervor at a single touch. The raised heart beat and the heightened warmth of my skin. I knew how to perceive the physical reactions of a human body. However, this Cardassian vessel is more enigmatic than I had hoped for.

The nearness of him makes his scent stream through me. In my human form, it was noticeable but not so powerful that it might have been felt as being absorbed into my very being. Yet, it appears to be happening. His essence seems to be acting as his hands will and is touching me in ways that I do not want.

_I do not want this. I do not want this. No._

Finally, I open my eyes. He is bent over. As a child would be in fascination at some new trinket. His eyes glitter as I have never witnessed before. I can taste his body heat and I know that he is stimulated on an entirely new level. Staring into my oppressor's eyes, I look for some fault that may save me. Something that may turn over this sudden lust.

But there is nothing. Only him. Only his want for me.

_Why?_

Yes, that is even more pressing than fighting back.

_Why must you do this, Entek?_

His fingers have never left my lips. I didn't notice until he withdraws from them and sits down next to me. I do not make any movement. I have a notion that if I do, he may spring on me and all chances of diplomacy will be lost. At least, whatever kind of diplomacy can be had in a situation like this.

No one is speaking. His eyes remain on my face and mine on his. His clothed figure contrasts my naked frame in this circumstance. My quarters are suddenly a barrage of noises. The climate control is maintaining its current temperature by softly pushing air through the room. A small series of surges come from the replicator across the room. Maybe, outside and down the hall, another door is opening. Still, no one is making a noise in this room. More moments go on of me discovering other distractions around us. While he remains as unmoving as a Firengi bar of latinum.

Then his invasive stare begins. From my face to my neck. I restrain myself from rolling in the sheets. I want to cover up every bit of myself from his stare. Because as his eyes travel across my upper body, I feel the situation slowly losing any form of decorum that it may have possessed. Especially, when Entek raises his hand to the edge of the sheet near my chest.

I can stop him. I can kill him, or at least, struggle against. But I do not. I allow him to pull the bulky material across my body and out of the way. He flicks it away to the other side of the bed. He does not even bother to look away when it lands in a puff of fabric and air. I can only surmise that he does not want to miss a second of this bizarre new form of torture.

Entek's lips purse together as he strokes the skin on my ribs with the back of his hand. Of course, the exposure of the cool air to my body has the usual effects so practically every scale and skin cell is visually sensitized. I bite my tongue as harshly as possible to wake myself up from this stupor.

Because I am not enjoying this but I was trained to endure and to survive. If this is inevitable than my Cardassian teachings would suggest that it would be logical to go through with it. Let Entek do what he wants with me and convince him that I am submissive to him.

I hear every commanding officer that I have ever had screaming in my ears, _"Survival is of the utmost importance. Survival means an opportunity, and an opportunity means victory. Survive at all cost."_

Their message reaches me and tears me from whatever spell I was under. I mentally outline what to do and say for the upcoming days. Within two seconds, it comes together. If smiling were optional at the moment, than I would be grinning like a deranged love-struck Betazoid.

Everything is in place.

Entek's caresses do not change as he reaches the deep cleft in my sternum. The scales around that area feel as though they opening and closing in euphoria. I let my eyes close for just this moment. Because there is still that one question nagging at me in the back of my head. The one inquiry that, despite my mission, must be somewhat treated with a sort of response.

"Entek." It's a whisper that crosses through my lips. Low and down turned. A small and false symbol of the rapture that should be taking over me.

I open my eyes when his hands stop their exploration. His hallowed breathing makes his voice raspy as he eyes me with an unfamiliar expression.

"Yes, Erica?"

I know what I must do. I reach for him. I do it without any of the former hesitance that was inside of me. My grasp falls upon his shoulder. He turns towards me with a deepening in his foreign countenance. I still do not know what it means.

I sit up and huddle against him. Immediately, his arm wraps around my body and pulls me even more tightly to him. The material is wool; it scratches against my flesh in a tickling manner.

My stare returns to Entek. I raise my chin and appraise him silently. For years, he has been someone whom I considered with nothing but despise. That has not changed. If it were possible, I would snap his neck right now. A little joy rings in my chest when I realize that I am still as emotionally separated from him as possible. In fact, I may hate him a little more now. Undoubtedly, I despise him more than any Bajoran or human that has ever crossed my temper.

Before any words are let out, I find him leaning forward. Those thins lips that had always formed such repulsive sentiments are currently pressed against my own. I had thought his kisses would be greedy or sloppy. Yet, it is dry. Maybe even a little weak. As those small pieces of flesh circle around my mouth, I remember an old Bajoran hymn about a "coward's kiss." A kiss that is only a show of false strength and empty devotion.

Yet, I have still have to know. Pulling away makes a cloud of annoyance veil his eyes while his hand deepens its grip against the flesh of my hip. I almost buckle under the forceful meaning of his embrace. Entek certainly has no intention of this ending as an uncompleted feat.

Licking my lips nervously and trying to rid myself of the taste of him, I take that step.

"What do you want from me?"

A hand yanks my hair to the side and following the pain of that, he places small kisses against my neck. Whispers pull through his mouth as he moves, "Such questions are a waste of time for you, Erica."

His teeth graze against my scales and make me twist uncontrollably.

"Entek, please."

Those obscured eyes light up in amusement. "What do I want from you? Are you really so blinded by your own silly world of espionage and pleasing Central Command? Have you noticed nothing throughout the span of your years?"

The last word is hissed against my skin before his jaws enclose themselves over my windpipe. Crying out in surprise over the sensitivity of that area, I claw against his arms for release. Teeth pull at flesh and I find myself remaining still with watered eyes. My fists clench so tightly at his shoulders that the tendons feel corrosive in their weariness.

I can't concentrate on his words and his meanings.

_If I have been blind to Entek's intentions, than what else has passed by me?_

He lets go. I find myself shaking, from my cramped fingers to my tight stomach. The air has never felt colder. The saliva left on my neck intensifies the chills. Entek, his eyes everywhere else except on my eyes, holds me away from him.

_Your cruelty is endless, Entek._

I almost allow myself to collapse into him. He is warm. I can't understand why this factor is of such importance to my body's functions at this moment but it is. I pray that he will wrap his arms around me so that I do not have to ask. At least, so my body will stop shaking so much. Even his hands are holding on so tight as if not to drop me.

Closing my eyes, I fight against my trembling jaw. I hold my mouth so tight that I'm sure it looks grimacing. However, it's better than being watching him visually ravage me. _Garak._ A light gasp at his memory is all I allow but I can picture him. The polite equestrian conversation that only he can provide. Thoughtfulness and courtesy mixed with a dash of mystery. Strangely, how I should not actually trust him in any circumstance, however I am certain that he would absolutely not take advantage in the way that Entek is doing so.

"Pretty Erica." His voice is dropping farther and farther into an abyss, "I have waited for…this."

His hesitance shook his last words up, and I find myself opening my eyes to see what I have been so blinded to. The Cardassian stares so grossly that I can not comprehend the expression. It is wide and unforgiving. Not accusing but it holds wanting. The desire is etched in miles of blatancy but there is so much more that can be taken from Entek's face. Outside of this situation, it would seem serious and full of purpose.

Concentration. Regret. Covetous. Confusion. Fear.

Slowly, I drop my gaze from his. _Oh gods, damn me for being so blind. Yes, there has never been a blinder fool._

Entek is in love with me.

A Cardassian is in love with a human. A girl that he has tortured, reviled, and shown plain disgust for over a period of nearly 6 years. I can recall every slight that he has made against me. All threats of death that he has appropriated in my direction. The thrill of being hated by Corbin Entek has always been mine. _So, this…this is crazy_.

He lays me back onto the bed. I allow this gentle act to take place and I withstand his gaze once more. Moments pass and heartbeats syncopate to the mood before he rises. His back is immediately turned to me, while I grab the sheet and revel in the petty warmth that it provides. My eyes roll back in relief until I see what Entek is doing.

Gray fingers untie the strings of their owner's cuffs. The dark violet cloth falls and so does my hope of him leaving me. A thin black shirt is all that lays between my assumptions of his body and its truth. So intent is my stare that I slight jolt when he speaks.

"Yes, I hate you." So matter-of-fact is how his words strike at me, "I despise everything that you are. The moment that I saw you in the council chambers, I could not even imagine the enjoyment that could be taken from watching your execution."

The black cloth has joined the violet wool in its fate. Scars and muscles ripple in harmony across his ashen frame. Still, I can not see his face.

"But Central Command had other plans for you and my anticipation was lessened greatly until your first mission. Something that not even the top Cardassian students were given the opportunity of, but you are special, are you not?"

He doesn't remove his pants. Instead, he stands away from me. I know that he has every intention of taking me tonight. There are no illusions about that. I can feel rage and every other rank emotion emanating from him.

"And of course, you were a success. You exceeded expectations. The first human agent that Central Command has ever had and that made you into quite the rarity. Nothing and no one could surpass you in value." The removal of his shoes is slowed by his words as he knees, "I must admit that I hoped you would fail during the interrogation section of your exams-"

Impatient and freezing, I cut across his snide words. "I almost did. All of that in gratitude to you, of course."

He is smiling. I know that he is smiling. I can hear the smugness in his retort. "You were a difficult one. I was not surprised that you beat the record. In fact, I hoped that it would go as far as to vaporizing you."

I am well aware of this. It was always something that he would whisper to me through military cells. _One more day, and we can kill you._

Entek stands and starts on the ties of his pants. A grip of nervousness takes off through my stomach. I would never admit this to him but I have never bedded a Cardassian, and I never thought that I would share an evening with him.

"If you hate me so much, than why this?"

This stops him and although I know the answer; I can't stop. I find myself rushing out of the bed and taking my stance behind him in confrontation. The sheet is clutched around me but I can barely feel my limbs. Another uncomfortable attribute to aid my fury.

"You humiliated me. You starved me and beat me for 18 days. You have killed whatever identity that was my own."

Then that feeling gushes out; I want to hurt him. My fist flies up then down against his shoulders. A rhythm of curses, strikes, and scratches plays between us when he finally turns around. The sheet flutters away unforgotten. My legs wrap around his and with a shove, we are both on the ground.

I find the words of misery that have dwelled long in myself but I have never had the courage to say to anyone. They twirl around my mind as we struggle. I know that it is not violence anymore. It is not violence because I am the only one that wants to cause damage and harm. Not Entek. Not in the manner of holding onto swinging arms and trapping kicking legs. There is not even a trace of rage in his face; only a neutral fixation.

Finally, the small battle ends. It was petty and insignificant. Actually, I am the defeated. I am the one who is pinned and in a very precarious position that I was trying to avoid. The position of having Entek nestled between my legs and both arms held down above my head.

Then I remember the words. "Kill me."

Yes, it stuns him. It is not because he has never heard these sentiments uttered. I am certain that they are heard more often for him than "greetings" or "best wishes" are heard. No, I know that it is the defeat that he has heard which disturbs him the most. He wants me but he does not want the shell of me. The only issue is that Entek can not have me unless I give myself to him and the chances for that are considerably low.

"I should." He is so soft that I have to strain to him, even though he is only a breath away, "It would only be fair. I have been dying for many years now because of you."

"Than stop ranting and do it."

"That would please you, wouldn't it?"

"But you can't do it, Entek." His body warms mine and takes a little of the pain away. Just enough for me to say what must be said.

"You said I have been blind and so I have been. But I can see everything now. I know what it is that you despise about me, and what it is that you love about me."

A sharp breath is taken and suddenly, he is unable to even look in my direction.

"You hate the fact that I am human. You despise me because of that, because it is a fact that can not be changed. My body can be operated on and transformed into thousands of corporeal forms but I am still human. Yet, I think that you love me because I am human. As you said before, being human on Cardassia made me a rarity but being a human that could understand Cardassians made me beyond that. It made me coveted by Central Command and by you."

His hands begin exploring once again. I bite my lip as he caresses and cups my body. Mentally, the battle is being fought but I know all too well how treacherous a body can be. Especially, this one.

"And I always believed that you were disgusted by me but you aren't, are you?"

Entek whispers against my wrists, "Please do not go on."

"You hate yourself too much to ever be so disgusted by me." I can't stop. I do not want to and he does not deserve my mercy. I will cut him with my words if I do not have the ability or the blade to do so. "You are disgusted by yourself because you fell in love with a human."

He releases my wrists and slips his pants off. I do not look. I do not want to see.

Sighing with sadness, I touch his face. Using my hands, I mimic the movements that he had performed on me. With these fingers on his features, he is lost to me. His eyes close and an odd moment of tenderness takes over him. I pause and bring my hands back.

_If he loves me, then will he make love to me?_

The idea drives a larger wedge of anxiety and grief inside of me. Sensing that I will not continue, Entek looks to me and waits. Yes, he is actually waiting. I almost can't believe that he acting as so. The dark eyes have a mist over them and adoration is within. Even though I have spoken so evilly of him and attacked him, he wants me. He wants me to want him.

My entire body is blanketed by his and I fully realize the capability of his positioning. He could take everything and be done with it. In some cruel way, I wish that he would so that I could continue my tirade of hate against him but this is not Entek's usual forte.

This is tenderness. This is respect. Maybe a little Cardassian manipulation is there but I have not been forced.

Perhaps, I can do more than survive. Perhaps, there is an advantage to be had.

"Entek."

His eyes flash even darker and once more I tremble.


	28. The Obsession Speaks

******  
**_AN: You guys should be proud of me. I totally just blew off my homework to finish this chapter. It feels kind of short to me but there are some major things coming in this story. Again, I extend my gratitude to all of my readers. You guys are what keeps the whole going. Now, on with the show!_

**Chapter 28**

**The Obsession Speaks**

In the end, he called me, _Uleni._

After that final caress, when his feverish eyes clouded my own with their river of sentiments. Tears from down his cheeks and onto my chest. I was no more than a barren land that no amount of water could bring back to life.

In the end, when he had experienced all that he wanted in me; I was ultimately _Uleni_.

Maybe, that was the transformative step for myself in Entek's eyes. Perhaps, it wasn't enough for me to appear Cardassian and to act Cardassian; he needed to take me as a Cardassian woman.

But there is nothing that can satisfy it. Originally, my assumption was that he wanted another pawn, another agent to be had. Instinctively, I still keep this formula in the back of my mind for it may still be plausible. Nonetheless, I am at a loss for ideas and answers about Entek.

I never knew him. I have existed with the intention of never knowing him unless it is to terminate him. Even now, I have no desire to discover who Corbin Entek actually is, but I do understand him in such a way that I feel no hate. Only a hallowed thing of some unnamed feeling. Like the weariness of watching a battle with the only outcome being that more of my fellow Cardassians will be sacrificed. Even comparative to watching the defeat of the proud cities that one once walked through with safety and pride; yet, now they are erased from all that is. I imagine that it can be described as a sort of loss.

As though he has taken away a part of me. Not my innocence. I believe that it is a sort of unawareness that he has twisted out of me.

Possibly, in the end, this ignorance is what made me, Erica. I miss her. Whoever she was. Erica could always be _Uleni…_

But then _Uleni_ cannot be Erica any longer.

"Yaval, Kira will be in sight within 45 seconds. She has just departed from Bajor." He rumbles through the system as if he were standing right behind me. Entek.

My hands descend from their position of holding my head up and rest against my legs. Yes, my thoughts have overcome me so many times since I departed from that lab on Cardassia. I cannot stop them and I have no reason to stop them from plaguing me. I was silent as he dressed, and ordered me to also dress before meeting him at the ship. I did it stiffly and quickly. I walked onto the Cardassian Galor and did not speak to him for the duration of the journey.

He only watched me from the corner of his eye. Sometimes, he would smile as though we were on a trip that was solely for enjoyment and relaxation. However, there were the moments that all joy left his eyes and he only would stare out to space. I could have read this expression but it was unguarded and severe. Hardly, worth the effort of asking him if something was amiss.

Then once we arrived at the Bajoran freighter that he had left tucked away on one of the Bajoran moons; he dismissed me without any inquiry. Until this moment, I find that I do not wish to obey him. Strangely though I cannot stop myself. With none of the soul that I had possessed, I reply evenly as I enter the charting positions for the rendezvous. "I will intercept the Major and we will convene at these coordinates in three hours."

"I look forward to it."

Admittedly, he is more tolerant. However, the situation is not deflated by an occasional flash of what should be a _common courtesy_. Despite that, I do not "look forward" to seeing Entek. If there is anything left of who I was, it is the twinge that flits through my veins and is telling me to run. Run now. Run before Kir-

Again, my thoughts are far too late. My ship's sensors are detecting her vessel.

_If I can, I'll do everything possible to ensure that she returns to Terek Nor._

As predicted, her ship's engines stall. The bulk floats by my ship as it sits in its cloaked mode.

Then all power fails.

The darkness inside the ship can be viewed from my forward windows. I watch it drift farther and farther until the distance feels appropriate. I estimate that she is ten clicks away. By this moment, she will have calmed down and she will be concentrating on sending out a message to the station.

I pass over controls. My fingers pat against the system screen and I assign the course for transportation.

First, I must stun her then bring her onto my ship.

Second, I will take her to Entek.

Third, Entek will change her as he has changed me.

However, I am not giving her up until he does discuss these impertinent pieces of information. I am not known for having pity and sympathy for targets but I can not allow a threat to rise against Central Command. I have virtually nothing to lose.

After all, I am already dead.

I tag the coordinates for beaming and within the moment of stepping back, the computer is sending me.

"…Computer, what is the status of the ship's medial capacitors?"

I survey my surroundings as my senses return to me. I am in the back holding of her ship. My palm slides against my long coat and the phaser reaches out to me. I hold it steadily and feel the security of it through my skin. My steps remain light as I creep out into the hall.

Kira continues her assessment of the ship without interruption.

Her Bajoran uniforms fall under the light as garish against its surroundings. The soft tan vibe of the ship's interior allows me to feel even calmer about what I am going to do. My heart is hardly raised and my breathing has steadied to a slow rhythm. My arm raises and my sight aims to be true.

"Major Kira Nerys."

Quickly, she spins nefariously. Her cheeks already blushed with frustration begin to redden with fury.

"What do you want?"

I make no other motion than a moving of lips, "Please stand up."

"Why? You can't shoot a Bajoran if they're sitting down?"

"Makes no difference to me. I'm just giving you the courtesy of not having to suffer through chest pains in the future."

Her eyes close in a dilemma then barely open. They're narrowed in hate and rebellion. I know Kira. Even before I came to Terek Nor, I knew her file and I know that in situations like this; the Major is something of an unscrupulous opportunist.

I pause with a slight yawn and wait.

She knows this game. Her eyes go between the phaser and me until the realization takes place that it might be wiser to do as I have said. Pushing herself out of the chair, Kira doesn't bother raising her arms in submission but juts out her chest in character defiance.

"I will be missed. Command at Deep Space Nine will notice I'm missing."

Cocking my head to the side, I try to imagine how this might end. I'm not killing but kidnapping her. I have no perception of what will be for her once we reach Entek. I know that she is not to be harmed and Entek would not waste such a resource as Kira for a cheap termination. If it is possible, there could be the option of taking out of this situation when it is at its end.

My finger steadies itself on the trigger and my placid tone predates the beam.

"That is the least of your worries, Major."

0(0)0(0)0(0)0(0)0(0)0(0)0(0)0(0)0

Admittedly, shooting the Major was not as difficult as I had envisioned. One well-placed shot to her abdomen and she fell. Within the credible time of 15 seconds, I had her further sedated and secured in a stasis pod.

Her vitals are strong, however dampened in their unconsciousness.

I track them across the ship's controls as I fly through the black atmosphere outside of Cardassian space. We are nearing to the meeting point. By my calculations, at any moment. Entek should be here.

_Unless, some infinite stroke of luck has come upon me then he will not be here._

Upon my ship entering the coordinates, I halt the engines. A small pull of force gives me a push forward. I drop the shields but keep the cloaking device at full capacity. Everything that he has ordered is completed _but where is he_…

A gasp of frustration is all I can offer to the silence of the Bajoran interior. My head leans back on the chair and exhaustion oozes into my system. The familiar sense of peace and tiredness hovers around me. How tempting the thought of sleeping days and days away can be.

Eyes flutter on their own. Breathing pace is diminishing to relaxed. Sleep is within reach.

_Only for a moment…_

A fluttering sound happens overhead.

_I am always too late. Too late to escape. Too late to save Kira. Too late for a nap-_

"Yaval! Do you have her?"

I use all my control to not groan in annoyance. "Yes. She is secured and ready for transport."

"Both of you are to be transported in 10 seconds. Stand by."

Springing up from my seated position, I bring my heart rate down. I must remain as placatory as possible. I hav-

_What am I doing?_

_I have no strategy organized._

_I truly do not know what to do._

The final thought clutters in my mind like a dropped corpse. It reeks and is a sign of further defeat. Then the scavenger of downfall arrives with the transport.

Fear.

0(0)0(0)0(0)0(0)0(0)0(0)0(0)0(0)0

The wreckage of the Bajoran ship slips through space unevenly and tangled. All I can see is wasted fire and metal. Wreckage is not the appropriate term. Considering the fact that Entek just drew fire on the vehicle and destroyed it.

He did it without further recognition of me or the physically anesthetized Bajoran in the cargo space. I merely watched. Only the gods know that I could not stop him even if I had the urge. Instead, I consoled myself with one settled fact.

_At least, the wretch waited until I was off the ship._

We turn away from the grave scene and settle at an even speed for Cardassia. I take the co-pilot's seat to his left and try to take interest in anything other than the dilemma that is drowning me. All of a sudden, the universe feels so small and treacherous.

"Was she difficult?"

I don't bother to look him in the eye, even though I feel him searching my face for an answer. "No more than expected."

His hand drifts closely within touching distance as he regulates the heating module in front of me. Entek speaks softly as he heightens the temperature by another 10 degrees, "You are pensive. Perhaps, I can be of some aid."

My jaw tightens into a grimace and I battle against the show of it. "Pensiveness is not a concern. No assistance is required for my thoughts."

"Then may I offer some relief of thought?"

He pulls my chair around to face him and I find that I cannot escape his attention. The blackened eyes threaten me with an intrusion that will prevail if I do not cooperate with his conversation.

"What are you going to do with Kira after you have Ghemor?"

A click of teeth precedes his words. I can't tell if it is nerves or surprise at my question.

"Where does such concern spring from for the Bajoran Major?"

I hold back from immediately replying. Somewhere in the depths of my logic, I am told to be honest. How strange of sensation to want to be truthful. Instinctively, it has been to deceive and twist and weave the impossible into a sort of truth to serve me. Maybe for once, the truth can save and not harm.

My arms cling together and I find the truth inside me. I find the fear and I hold onto it because it is going to save everyone. It must.

"Because what you do with her will reflect your intentions toward me."

Finally, he leans back in his chair. The disinterest in my comment leaves me feeling breathless. Like being trapped in a chokehold once again. Only this time, it is his silence that has me by the throat.

Entek bites his top lip intermittently with his sighing, "I believe that I had made my intention quite clear in reference to you."

"Will you kill me after this?"

"This is the second time that you have mentioned this subject to me. I am tiring of it, Erica."

Another question. "Why do you call me, Erica? I know that you don't think that I have 'earned' it but-"

"It is has nothing to do with privilege or merit." A cool hand rests on my knee and a closed voice is spoken to me, "You are not a Cardassian. You will never 'be' a Cardassian. However, on the contrary, you are very Cardassian. So Cardassian that I forget you were ever a human. The only reminder of that was your human figure. You would be shocked to find that I see you more as Erica now than I ever have before."

I view his words as I view his face. Calm and rooted in some thought or emotion that he has taken to a new level of deduction. He has taken me and surpassed my identity or self as human; even as Cardassian. He is maintaining the visage that he truly sees me. This Cardassian who has only expressed destructiveness and revulsion towards me; this is the one that claims to have a better idea of who I am than those who adore me.

Deep down, I want to turn away from the idea. I want to reject it as the Cardassians once rejected the Bajoran beggars at their doorsteps by hauling them off to the mines. I do not want to simply banish this concept from my mind. I want it dead. Tortured and raped. Burned off of my mind and miraculously left without a scar. But I know that revelations like this do not die. They are immortal and forever ablaze in the soul because of what they give. Clarity.

Peculiar. How everything can fit together and I can see the puzzle in its nakedness. Yet, I barely catch his movement of hand but I feel the small brush of the hypospray.

"Your intentions are becoming eerier by the moment, Entek." I actually smile at him. I am happy; pleased by his action because I expect this from him. It's familiar and assuring in its ill intent.

His own grin is thin and hardly joyous as he watches his injection go to work. My arms drop down to my lap. I fully sink into the padding of the chair as my body loses all sense of control. My neck drops back and I find that I am at his mercy. Throughout everything, it is possible that I always have been.

"Do not worry." He stands up and adjusts my position in the chair. He pulls me forward so I cannot strain myself. "It is only a paralytic. The sedative will come at a later time."

"You choose one that allows me the ability to still correspond. Were you afraid that I might run away or betray you to Central Command?"

"You are much too intelligent for such hasty decisions." A palm touches my cheek then it is gone as he sits back down.

I know that this is only a paralytic but that sensation of inebriation playfully floods my head. "A truth serum, Entek?"

I laugh as that tickling feeling of too much spinning settles in my chest.

"Just something small to make sure that there are no boundaries of information between us." He states it quietly.

"Then you better inject yourself as well." I try to stop giggling but everything is so unexpectedly funny, "You know, Entek, if you had shown even the smallest tinge of kindness; we might have been amicable."

A shade of green appears in his skin. The Cardassian blush makes another bubble of laughter gush out of me. "Don't be so easily embarrassed. You were awful to me and I was very horrible to you but I don't think that we ever really hated each other. Not when I really consider everything."

"I have not always been incapable of genuine decency towards you."

I look at him through a drugged façade and wait for the explanation.

Entek claps his hands together and the story springs forth. "Your first mission. I was there."

The fervor of the serum fades as the seriousness of his answer hits me.

"At which point? When I shot the Bajorans or when I bombed the Bolian café? No, no, no. I know. You watched me poison the Vulcan librarian-"

"I was there through everything."

I snort derisively, "Impossible. I was not being tracked."

"No, you were being surveillanced by me and only by me."

"Why didn't you report me to Central Command or terminate me in that case?"

He looks to space but does not turn away. "You were not a threat to our interests. A rogue agent with little competence but not dangerous."

I try to recall that first mission. The places that I had visited. The holes and shops that I had staked out when in search of my targets. Their homes and businesses that I had visited for only the intention of destroying all of it. No mention of another agent trailing me is shown in my thoughts.

My curiosity interrupts me and vocalizes itself. As if I could control it.

"Were you in love with me then? Had you always felt as you do now? Or was it some sudden sentiment?"

That brings his attention back to me and away from the far away stars. A second clicks by then another until I can practically see the workings of his mind being thrown into overdrive. I wonder if he even understands the base of his feeling.

"It was while you were in training. You were at Prehka Desert for your field exam. You were the only student to pass. I was impressed but not surprised. I was in charge of supervising your progress and I expected nothing less of you-"

"Central Command had you watching me and making reports. Is that why you were chosen for my interrogation and not one of the other agents?"

"Yes. That is precisely the reason. Central Command felt that I understood you better and would have a far easier time breaking you." A small glimmer shines in his tone. I cannot tell if it is respect or appreciation until he says, "But you would not crumble so easily, and I did not want you to. I did not allow even a fraction of respite to cross between us during your interrogation but I knew that you would succeed. This might sound incongruous but you are the only thing that I am truly sure of."

"In what way?"

"Your loyalty and mannerism. You appear so different than from what and who you really are. You are like Cardassia. The society is changing and is more of a purgatory than a Utopia for its people. Yet, the individuals are more practiced and fluid in their lives. They are powerful and are capable of anything. You can be cruel and cold but there is more life inside of you than anyone else that I have ever encountered. Cardassian and not."

The compliment is more than what I ever expected from Corbin Entek. The genuine heart of his speech is felt beating and alive in a way that I could not have imagined.

"Thank you. That might be the most considerate sentiment that you have spoken of me."

The conversation is stopped by that. It is not often that I have ever spoken with a friendly theme running through my words when conversing with him. Then again, I have never been paralyzed and drugged in front of him at the same time.

"Do you love Garak?"

If I could fluster and sputter, then I would do so. However, it is hard to appear flabbergasted when none of your upper body is operable. How lucky for me. Instead, I try to answer without letting the hypospray affect my thoughts.

"I am not certain."

"Would you give up everything for him?"

"Is that actually considered love or an obsession?"

His face remains solemn. "Is there a difference?"

"One could be more detrimental than the other."

"Then I would conclude that you are not in love."

A break in the statement lets me in, "In that sense, I am devoted and in love Cardassia then."

"More than Garak?"

Silence is my reply to that.

I stare past him and at the control panel. We are almost to Cardassia. Suddenly, I see him turn away and face the same object. A flurry of his hand causes our ship lurch forward and the hypospray emerges from his other hand.

Just as the instrument reaches my pulse, darkness meets my eyes and his lips arch against mine.


	29. Faith Resequenced

_AN: Whew! I did this in record time and I'm in love with this chapter. The themes and the dialogue were pretty challenging but they came together so well. I was very surprised and am satisfied with it. So, I've had more comments than usual with the last chapter and I've decided to address my faithful readers and reviewers._

_Little Tanuki: I hope that you're still reading. Your reviews are so helpful. The criticism is very precise and always addresses the stuff that I miss. So, thank you! __J_

_Lilith276: You are such a kind reader. I always love the messages you send. Having readers who are so supportive and enthusiastic about the coming chapters is an awesome feeling. Thank you for sharing that with me. I will do my best to keep it coming and I hope that you continue to enjoy what is to come in the story._

_loxKardasia: I'm not sure that I could ever love fanfic as much as I love Garak. ;-) He is so terribly cool. I love every line in the show that he has. But as for your questions, I will address the ones that don't take away from the plot._

_2. Garak is on DS9 and the main character is not. So, their interaction is limited. However, he will be a regular in the oncoming chapters and will be very instrumental in everything that will happen. Afterall, this is stated as a Garak fanfic._

_3. I think that it is apparent why Garak likes Erica. If you read the earlier chapters, he states the struggle that he had about his friendship with her and how he felt that it was too good to be true. And as we all know, Garak does not trust "coincidences." I'll also feel that the relationship has a lot to be explored and the way it was left, leaves it as unresolved. But of course, there is my interpretation and the readers' interpretation. So, if you feel that it's unrealistic for Garak to like Erica, then that's one way of thinking about it. However, if you like their relationship then that's awesome too. Either way, I just hope that you like the story._

_4. Semester ends in two weeks for me. Hooray! So, I'll be updating a lot faster. However, I am contemplating on summer classes and that will put a small damper on my writing schedule. Oh, well._

_Penstakingly: I'm glad that you like my writing style. If you hated it, then I would just cry…JK. LOL. But as for your observation about my understanding of the Cardassian culture and mentality, I will say that I haven't read much about it. If I have a question about anything, I do look it up and try to confirm it with what is in the show. I rarely go truly non-canon. However, Cardassians are my favorite characters on the show. I have always had a feel for who they are and what they represent. I think that no one gives them a chance to answer for themselves and that they can be misunderstood. So, in a way, this is my homage to anyone that isn't given the chance to have their culture, their people, or their customs understood. I think that's very important and I think that it gives the Federation and the Bajorans a very hypocritical image when they don't give the Cardassians that allowance. (I'm probably going to get flamed for that statement because of the Occupation on Bajor but there are two sides to every story, people!)_

_Ok. Now scroll down and make me proud. Read._

**Chapter 29**

**Faith Resequenced**

Water. Swearing. Sweat. Warmth.

Piece by piece, senses awaken. Hearing. Physical sensation. Taste. Smell. Finally, thought. The voice that pervades so strongly and at all times is sitting silently in a shadow. I know she is there but why is she so numb? I need her. Her ideas and retorts for survival. I need her moments of tears and fury in combination with crazy bouts of misunderstood joy at the seriousness of death.

She is being so quiet.

Her body is alive. It is breathing and sensing and heart beating. It is more animate than she is right now. What could have restrained her and made her mute when **I **am still living.

I try to speak to her. It is yelping and hissing but it is sound. It is loud and ear-splitting to bear. It is all for her but she is not turning towards me. She rises and leans against the walls of my mind. I can sympathize with the despair and anger she is experiencing. It is the only experience that she is allowed. She cannot be alleviated into grief or sorrow when there is so much that she cannot do.

All she needs to do is speak. Someone please tell her to speak!

"**It is time! Yaval, you need to wake up!"**

There it is. Someone is asking for her. Be louder, please be louder.

Hands crush her shoulders and her head is thrown from side to side. **"Yaval! Come back now! Come out of it!"**

Then she is pushed away. Her body is put back down. Residing between an area of forgotten and cursed. She needs to know that she is still alive. That **I **am still alive. More importantly, **we need to live.**

The voice that owns those furious hands addresses us once more, **"It is over. Entek is dead. Now wake up. Wake up and damn all the rest."**

_I am here, Uleni._ Her voice is faint but it is here.

I answer her. _And I am here, Erica._

Together, we resonate and become alive once more. _We are here._

The crater that had kept me from crossing into the living is crossed. A gasp escapes my chest and the pain that only the waking comatose could understand is felt. The darkness of this select location soothes my opened sight. I rapidly breathe in air and surmise.

"I thought you had joined the gods, Uleni Yaval."

I secretly cringe at the thought, despite the dark shielding all facial expressions of mine. "What a wonderful sentiment to wake up to, Zuril Q'ilik."

A chuckle that I had assumed impossible for him is echoed throughout the space between us. A hand on my shoulder lets me know that he is on my left. I would laugh if my throat were not so dry that it could rival a Cardassian desert.

The geneticist's laugh is slowed and his disciplined demeanor returns, "You are fortunate to be alive. You have been under sedation for almost six months."

I hardly know how to react to this news. I can only imagine what has happened in such time. I clear my throat, "Forgive me for dismissing your news so quickly but you wouldn't by chance have brought something to drink?"

"Only by chance."

A smooth vessel is brought and pressed inside my hand. I bring the open jar up to lips and gulp down water as I had done to air. The hydration provides a source of relief and pleasure that I would have never expected. The cup is gulped in a single move.

_Now that is beyond heaven._

I softly hum through the bridge of my nose and begin to rise. Just as I come up, I go back down. A soft thump is all that is heard. I really wasn't expecting the dizziness.

"Take it slow. Your equilibrium will be askew for awhile."

He is walking off and his actions echo back to me until they cease in a single scuff.

"I think that food is in order and minor illumination."

With that said by Q'ilik, the light is heightened to barely lit. A small cot is underneath me. The bare walls are covered with shelves of data pads and medical instruments. This is nothing like the last place that I had awoken in. There is a distinct feeling of home. The floors are not steel grating; they are black Xieros marble and from the heat emanating from that direction, I believe that the floor is heated.

The absence of the elder Cardassian is noted only momentarily as I concentrate on pulling myself up. One leg is thrown over and brings me on to my side. A small symptom wriggles in my stomach; nausea. I bypass it by breathing deeply and smothering my face in the pillow. A second, then another, and it is gone.

Clenching my abdomen and pushing away from the bed, I find myself sitting up.

Rolling my head and shrugging my shoulders; popping noises sound off throughout my body. No pain but I know that I'm cringing at the thought. My eyes are scrunched as I roll my ankles in circular motions before placing my feet off the bed.

An annoyed sound is sighed by Q'ilik from the hall. He enters in an animated speed that feels out of character for him because he is barely able to set the plate down without the tinkling of unnecessary roughness on the tray of food. I wait for a scolding over the state of my health but instead, I find him standing in front of me with an open hand.

I feel uneasy about this.

"If you are recovering that quickly then we might as well see what else you can perform." The diplomatic phrasing and absence of snarling in his voice are hardly comforting.

His hand is still stretched out to me and with one more glance into his solid glare, I take it.

"I would have thought that my recovery time would have been extended far more than this."

Unsteadily, I take myself up. His grip is like holding onto a brick wall. It feels solid but it just might collapse if I pull on it at the wrong moment. Luckily, as I step and flex the muscles from the balls of my feet to my calves; I know that I can walk without assistance. I let go of his hand and make my way casually to the table across the room.

"Oh, larish pie?"

The dessert is set on a beautifully carved dish with a jug of water next to it. I look from the plate to Q'ilik then to the plate and finally back to him. The only movement from him is to cross his arms. The seriousness of his attitude is more pronounced than ever before.

_Obviously, he would prefer that I just eat quietly._

As I sit in front of my meal, he walks around to the other side of the table. We sit in optional silence as I take up the utensil and start sifting through the pie. I wait a few moments for the conversation to begin before my mind makes its own comments. _The crust is peeling off perfectly- wait a moment. _

"I remember you said something about Entek being dead." An unrecognizable shudder stabs up my chest and only makes my next words even more pertinent, "Where is Kira?"

Q'ilik's face is etched into an irreplaceable calm as his eyes go off into another direction. Then his body follows and I catch a stringed reply of, "The Bajoran Major is safe. I understand that she is back at Terek Nor."

A breath of relief comes around and now I know that I must hear the story of Entek's death. The temptation of rocketing into full-length rant on the treachery of Corbin Entek and how his death will serve to give a greater sense of liberty in the future is suddenly lost.

_Entek is dead._

I thought that it would be spectacular news.

But it's not exactly like that. I can't describe how it feels. I am not able to confirm a sense of missing the louse but I regret. Yes, I regret the state of what was between him and me. It is a mystery, and knowing me, it will allude me until my own end.

_Whatever it was, it is irrelevant now._

A glass of kanaar plunks down next to my right hand. Q'ilik carries another for himself before settling down. The murky liquid spins in its glass and for once, I understand what it is to be kept like that. Confined but retreating and bustling without rest.

"What happened? With Entek and Ghemor?"

The question is stumbled over but then answered by Q'ilik with more than enough accuracy, "Garak arrived with others from Terek Nor. Ghemor, through the aid of Garak, has been given immunity through the Federation and is safe. I am sure that the rest can be presumed."

"Was it painless and quick?"He rolls the ball shaped glass around with steady fingertips, "As I understand it, yes."

"Unfortunate then."

I don't veil the dismissal of any sort of care for Entek. In a small way, I hope that it was quick. However, he was very deserving of any pain that might have been a consequence of his manner of death.

"It would seem that we are both of the same mind, Yaval. I bore no favor for him as well. However I believe that I might be able to calculate your regret," A little humor comes out with a small swig of kanar. "You were not the lucky one that got to "pull the trigger."

"I deduct that you are carry the same regret?"

"A fanciful one and a passing one but let the braggart rest. What is your future, young one?"

An insult meant to tease. A Cardassian one but it is there nonetheless. I glare at Q'ilik slightly for his usage of my age in a title and all he shows is the sentiment of being very pleased at hitting a nerve. "I hardly know. One can only say what is to come and I, it seems, am without a lead."

"Will you go back to Central command?"

I grimace as the kanar clashes against the larish flavor on my tongue. "That hardly seems appropriate."

"Indeed. A human agent returning from the dead." The dying comedy of the situation remains pronounced throughout the seriousness of the thought and I feel that we are both relieved that we are very far away from being at the mercy of Central Command. "They have dealt with messier situations."

"Well, to greet me back, why don't you tell me about the war? What is happening? And who is winning?" My larish pie being halfway consumed is slowly losing its appeal as the issue of war is brought out. "As if anyone could ever win against the Dominion."

"From what I understand and have heard from my outside contacts, the Federation is doing everything they possibly can to scrape their way out of this, shall we say, "already dug grave."

"And where is the main conflict resting?"

"The Dominion wishes to make the Federation a part of their empire."

"Where do we stand?"

A guffaw is roughly strewn onto the conversation and Q'ilik's hand slaps the table in what I can only decide is frustration. "Not stand, young agent. More like circling. Like a Souk hawk waiting for its prey to drop so that it can feed."

I raise my glass in agreement. "Cardassia has always had that scavenger charm about it."

"Well said." His glass salutes mine and we drink to the gravity of our people's deceptive climates, "But there is massive unrest here in turn. Among the civilians."

My head lifts slightly at the comment. "Noticeable?"

"One could be drawn to that conclusion. A committee of civilian spokespersons actually entered the military council chambers yesterday."

A small O shape takes over my mouth and I have to remind myself to shut my mouth before my surprise is taken as failing lack of observation. "I imagine that Dukat has every security officer wishing that they were never produced."

His kanar is gulped down and his words emerge bitterly. Just like the inky taste of the Cardassian liquor. "Your description is lacking the public executions and as well as the outcries of every single province on the planet."

"Gul Dukat never knew how to act with subtlety."

"A civilian government is being formed right under that imbecile's nose and now he doesn't know what to do."

I venture forth with carefully composed thought. At least, how carefully composed one can be while under the influence of such supplements like kanara. "Well, the military government has been failing Cardassia for years. It should be no surprise that finally the civilians have come to the point of no more compromise. You know that everything will be done to dismiss any chance of a civil War. Even if it means the private imprisonment of all of those civilian group members."

"That has been the policy of our military for these past 50 years."

"Then it seems I have woken up to the same old world; haven't I?"

I attempt a light grin for at the dark humor but Q'ilik does not share in it. The iniquitous world of knotted conspiracies and forced submission that surrounds us had been constructed in a time without hope for Cardassian progression beyond starvation and chaos. We know the military only arose as a final act for order. Not peace or goodwill, but to end the hell that Cardassia was forming into. The stable appearance of our government is not necessarily so. It is only a balance between politically inclined soldiers and power hungry agents. All of their intentions hidden by a cloak of claimed loyalty for the state.

_What a mess._

"Only instead of tempting the Sklarn beast; we are now dancing inside of its very jaws." Lightly, Q'ilik recites a verse from a children's poem. The story plays out as two Cardassian children decide to pursue the famed Skarn beast but throughout the tale, they are warned by all elders that the Skarn beast is not what it seems. The tale is assorted according to what province that it is heard in. The ending is always the same though the Skarn beast is a creature composed of good intentions with weak dedication.

The moral…_intentions must be ignored and actions acknowledged. Fears are not real until they have you at their mercy._

_What to do, what to do, what to do…_

Guttural and slow, Q'ilik returns from his own ponderings. "I am only here as something of a favor to Entek. A dying wish to a very sick man it would seem."

"And that is?"

"To awaken you and ensure that you are not harmed and to leave you with this."

Out of his lap, a data rod rises inside of his palm is set between us. I don't reach for it. If it is from Entek, then it might not be something that I should take. I need to buy time and obtain more information about this from Qilik before I can even consider the data on that rod.

"Where are we, Q'ilik?"

"The Rossaka province. In my restaurant."

I finish my kanar and reiterate all of the suspicions that had been resting inside my mind. "Why have I been asleep for six months? I assume that this was not where I was left by Entek."

He nods. "This was not your original location but until yesterday, I was not even aware that you were being kept in stasis."

I lean forward and despite what I had recently known of Entek; I still say what shocks me. "So, he left me to die."

My hands wrestle with each other and I lean against the table in another bout of silent thinking. Before I can even take up a voice in my thoughts, Q'ilik speaks forwardly."Incorrect. The message that was left for me had ended up in the wrong hands."

I can only reach one conclusion about that. "The post-mortem audit?"

"Yes. You know the long winded process. On average, four months but Entek was a special case, of course."

A small quip lifts my spirits, "So, he left you a sedated presumed dead former agent?"

"You have great faith in Corbin's generosity. Yet, your faith might not be so overly imagined."

"How so?"

"In this data rod, he left the shri-tal to you."

My eyebrows shoot up. The scrunch in my brow feels terribly uncomfortable but I can't bring it back down. _The shri-tal? To me?_ I recall the standards and the meanings of the shri-tal custom. The giving of a dying Cardassian secrets to their selected person. The secrets can involve practically anything but the presumed information is composed of the identities and weaknesses of enemies; all of this given in the hope that the chosen person can succeed where the dying has failed. I can't imagine why Entek would leave this to me. He could not have assumed that I would be willing to chase down all of his enemies for the fulfillment of his revenge.

I decide to take up the data rod and look it over. The scribbling in the metal is messy and I can almost make out what it says. I squint my eyes and I start to pick out the letters-

"That is the only way that I knew to find you." I look into the wizened eyes of Qu'ilik as he goes, "Entek stated in his elegy: _The shri-tal will open only for she who is in the base of mind, heart, and soul."_

"How was that pertinent to finding me? _The heart, mind, and soul _is a common phrase."

I remember the first time that I heard the usage. It was my first visit in the capital city and I had purchased a carved hairpiece. The trader had taken my credits and then bid me farewell by stating, 'the heart, mind, and soul.' My father explained the meaning of the phrase as we had walked back through the brightened and heated streets to the military academy. It is part of the old Cardassian religion. The balance of the heart, mind, and soul was part of the daily devotion to the Cardassian deities. Only the divine bore the perfect setting of heart, mind, and soul. To state "heart, mind, and soul" to someone is the equivalent of "best wishes" or "good luck." However, the ancient devoutness of the term is not so anymore; now it is a statement of everyday.

"Yes, it is one of our phrases but the 'base' is not usually part of the term. It was a meeting point during the Bajoran war for some." Q'ilik meets my eyes in a sedated manner of remembering things long gone, "The "base" of the mind, heart, and soul is Terek Nor."

"I have been in Terek Nor for 6 months?" I snap the question out.

"Yes. Underneath the Bajoran temple."

If I could, I would kill Entek all over again before Garak got to do it. Fury turns to sarcasm. "How lucky for me. I got to sleep to the sound of Bajoran chanting and bead dropping."

Rousing from my derision is laughter from Q'ilik, "I imagine that Entek wanted you to be safe and away from all of this. The factor of imminent death was one that he had estimated would be present. That is why he has kept the shri-tal in this data rod. You are the only who can open it."

Q'ilik reaches in one long stride and takes the tiny device from my hand. In another stride, he sets it against the console screen paralleled to the cot. He approaches the door and gives me a glance of plentiful meaning. "When you are prepared to listen, it is there. I will be upstairs."

With that, he is gone.

I thrum my fingers against my plate and contemplate finishing the slice. I do need the nourishment but my appetite is as elusive as everything on this planet. I know it is there, it just refuses to work with me. Sighing dankly, I cough on my breath and decide that no more food is require. I push the dish and rise out of the chair in a single movement.

On my feet and I stroll by the booked shelves. I touch title after title and pick up the data pads for perusal. However, none of the texts slip in under the burdening rock of thought in my mind.

I don't feel good about this. _Human intuition._ Yes, it is writhing inside. Poking at my innards and creating butterflies that carry dread. The prickliness that only uncertainty can bring skims along my shoulders and I find goose bumps underneath my fingers as I touch my forearm. I stand still and realize that I was expecting brown skin. No, it's not there. My skin instead stands with small ridges than lays down flat and grey.

_How had I forgotten about that? _

My human form is not mine anymore. I am a Cardassian being now. A spell of anger weaves around me once again. I have so much that needs to be answered and it might all be there in that data rod.

I lunge to the console and pick up the rod. It is rotated slowly until I find the scratched writing on the bend of it.

**:the question and the answer are same:**

Briefly, I translate the words into as something of another mystery for me to solve. One that will be dealt with later. With eager fingers, I insert the data rod into the open plug and wait for the screen to bring it up.

With a flash of the console, I curse hotly in Cardassian.

_He put a lock on the rod. A DNA lock and enigma lock._

The DNA lock will allow me in. I know that much but enigma locks are tricky. I could attempt to bypass it but as soon as I begin, the files may self-destruct. Enigma locks will also only allow a certain number of attempts; usually three. I weigh the options in my mind. I cringe at the thought of losing whatever information is on the rod.

I press my palm against the screen. A small whizzing sound admits that the first lock has been opened. I anticipate furiously at the next one. It reads across the screen as, "**What is the People's Question?"**

With a hiss of contempt, I punch the wall next to console. Bone against steel is met and the rage is brought to a still by a small cracking sound. The bone has lost against the metal and I stand upright with hand cradled against my stomach.

_How does he expect me to ask Dresik that damned question when I am supposed to be dead? I won't get within three provinces before-_

Then the blood drains from my face as I consider something that I should have first thought of. Dresik. Why had it been so important about asking Dresik these things? Why would Entek go through all of this trouble just for this to be the final step?

"Because you knew I would figure it out. You knew that I am the only one who can see it."

I talk to no one. If this short and ragged sentence of bewilderment was aimed at anyone; Entek would be the closest target. I grab onto my head and try to fight the connections that are being in my head.

The conspiracy.

Suddenly, everything is so apparent that I have to wonder if I am crazy.

I go back to the console and pocket the data rod. I take a plasma scalpel from the high shelves and stuff it in my pocket as well. As I smooth down my dress, I realize that my hand no longer hurts. I press down on the knuckles and feel no discomfort. Instinctively, towards the wall and see what I had sorely missed.

A fist indention. On a Cardassian steel wall. At least an inch deep.

0(0)0(0)0(0)0(0)0(0)0(0)0(0)0(0)0

"Something is not right." I stand accusing and withdrawn in front of Q'ilik.

He is hunched over a chair. The restaurant is not open but dark and private. All windows are shaded and through the glass, I hear the downpour of desert rain. The old Cardassian sits humbly with the chair positioned backwards and another bottle of kanar in his fist. All he does is raise and drink before answer me."I was hoping that you would consider this to be an advantage."

The drunkenness makes me curl my lips in distaste and I try to remember that civility is needed right now. I know that he is the only one who can help. I can't afford to lose his aid. So, I will remain methodical about this."What exactly has been enhanced?"

He shrugs and crooks his head as he watches ghosts in empty chairs throughout the place. "Entek felt that your mental capacity would suffice. However your first training has been severely neglected by the standards of Cardassian mental discipline. So he suggested that I enhance your neocortex. The basal ganglia was somewhat more enhanced because of the Cardassian splice-"

"Were both of you out of your minds! You couldn't stop at this?" I clutch onto my abdomen and pull at my Cardassian skin. I had cut him off in an menacing voice before snarling with all the venom that had been implanted in my soul, "I mean, DNA resequencing?"

He doesn't play quietly. Instead, he stumbles up and points out ragingly with burning liquid in hand, "This planet is overran with DNA locks! You wouldn't have made it two steps outside without being detected by Central Command!"

"You are a scientist. You knew the risks of such a procedure! The success rate for DNA splicing on a live subject is impractical. Creating a spliced subject through staged reproduction is one thing but taking a human and implanting Cardassian DNA?" I threw my hands up and touch my face like a lunatic muttering to herself. "Unimaginably foolish."

"But here you are." How choked Q'ilik sounds. Like a sob and howl are caught inside his throat. "The impossible subject that is doomed to fail. You are correct. I had not approved of the procedure. Cardassian science has delved in the subject but the practicality of the matter has always held it back. We are not so gifted in the art of genetic engineering, like the Jherians. But my research has brought results that could not have been imagined without trial and error. You are the finale."

I turn my back to him and the only sound is the prevailing rain. It whispers to me my next concern. Then I bring it to Q'ilik. "Is it reversible? Don't look at the bloody sky! Answer me!"

He stares at the ceiling and does not halt as he answers dumbly. "I am unsure. I used Cardassian cells to enhance certain qualities. The main objective was to corrupt your own DNA to the point that you would pass as a Cardassian. It had nothing to do with actually making you into a Cardassian."

"What has been affected?" I ask, remembering the fractured metal downstairs.

"Memory and other cognitive skills. Strength and endurance. Your coordination and speed will be severely affected. Sensitivity to heat and light. Your hearing. I am not entirely sure but these are the most noticeable."

I recall a significant biological difference between humans and Cardassians. "What about aging?"

"Another factor that is not quite clear. You may age as fast as a human or as slow as we do. I imagine that the Cardassian traits will allow you a longer life than your average human but not as long as other Cardassians."

As I understand his words and their implications, I realize that I have to leave. I look at him for another exit. Q'ilik knows from the look on my face that I have to go. He places his bottle on to his chair.

"I know that this was not a hasty decision." My voice doesn't break but it is not at its strongest. "I am aware that you may have had no other choice when dealing with Entek. When you asked me to forgive you, it was not solely for changing my appearance. I know now that it was for altering everything."

He sets a phaser down on the table. Cardassian standardized beam and military issue. "To give my apology again would be repetitive and distasteful. So, I offer whatever aid you may require."

Q'ilik stands unflinchingly. Even when I take the weapon up, he doesn't stir. I place it in my robes and he walks to the hallway. I follow him. One foot in front of the other with one hand in my pocket on the phaser. We reach a doorway and a black cloak appears in his hands. He hands it to me with the same sense of duty as he did with the phaser.

I wrap it around my shoulders and say the last of what I have for him, "I am uncertain about returning. If I never see you again; I wish you well, Q'ilik."

The portal opens and the coarse landscape of the Rossaka province waits. I know that it is farm country and that the nearest transport will be a long walk through the province. I slip outside soundlessly except for the splash of watery steps. I rush to the nearest building.

It is nearly 20 yards away but within a heartbeat, I am there.

A blink of the eyes, I am on the roof.

Then even at that distance, I hear him speak.

"The heart, mind, and soul. Uleni."

I bow to him and repeat the key of what it is to be Cardassian.

"Heart, mind, and soul."


	30. Author's Indulgence

AN: Hey, here's the next chapter! Whoohooo!

JK. I know, that was terribly mean. Honestly though you guys think that I did the next chapter so fast? I mean, in reality, I just uploaded the last chapter exactly three minutes ago…Wow, I really wish that I could write that fast.

The idea kinda stumps me. But this is the 30th chapter. So, I decided to do something a little different for this one. As for anyone who doesn't like this well…*in a 4 year old children's voice* **This is my story! And I can do what with it because it's mine! Mine! Mine! MINE!**

No, I'm just playing. No temper tantrum here. LOL. But I decided to share something that I do as part of my creative process for writing. As if I were some amazing writer or something. I'm really not. I just like messing around with DS9; well, more with Garak and Cardassians actually. ;-)

So, this is just a list of a song that was on repeat for the entirety of the writing for each chapter. Yeah, I know. That is soooo overdone but it actually does help me a lot. Especially, in connecting with the characters and their emotions. I also hope that this will help those readers who are trying to understand the depths of Erica in the fact that she is an individual who is continuously living in between identities. Just someone who is trying to survive when both sides are actually against her on every level. With that said, if any of interested, then you could listen to these songs with the chapter it matches or make a play list or whatever.

P.S. if I get flames for this chapter, I won't lie. I'll probably just giggle.

Chapter 1: Five Years Ago..

Song: I Didn't Know I'd Love You So Much from "Repo! The Genetic Opera"

AN: This was an awesome scene and I really respect actress for taking this role. She didn't have any singing experience but she did a great job.

Chapter 2: Kira Nerys?

Song: Stacy by Socialburn

AN: I can't really explain why this was playing or why I was liking this song much at that time but I guess that this is how I imagined Dukat feels and how Erica sees his reaction.

Chapter 3: Am I Still Human?

Song: Relax Max by Dinah Washington

AN: I love this lady! One Hit Dinah!

Chapter 4: Be Noticeable

Song: Just Like You by Allison Iraheta

AN: I know that the song is based on a relationship between two people and the dynamics inside of them. Yet, it the part that really spoke was, "Roses are dry. Violets are black and I can be cruel. Just like you. The tables have turned. Can't help but laugh."

Chapter 5: I Can Do This

Song: Here I Am by Bryan Adams

AN: Pretty self explanatory.

Chapter 6: Hello Constable

Song: New Soul by Yael Naim

AN: This tune kind of holds the persona that I felt Erica might have embodied. Childlike and innocent on the surface but someone who totally knows the horrid truth inside it all.

Chapter 7: Goodbye Constable, Hello Quark

Song: If You Wanna Touch Her, Ask! By Shania Twain

AN: I figured that Quark and Odo would have very different reactions to the main character. Erica would want to be non-threatening to Odo but something of value to Quark. Appeal to his lust and his greed.

Chapter 8: Too High Of A Price

Song: Roses by OutKast

AN: Attitude. All about the attitude.

Chapter 9: Two Masters

Song: Ready or Not by The Fugees

AN: I felt that there would be a very dark undertone in this scene. Confrontational and suspicious.

Chapter 10: Charmed

Song: Enchantment by Corinne Bailey Rae

AN: Just because Rae uses the term "gossamer" in this song. LOL. Also, I love how she says, "Don't know how I fell in love this time."

Chapter 11: A Dax Conversation

Song: Girl by Destiny's Child

AN: It's the sister feel. I think that Dax would actually be a wonderful friend for anyone.

Chapter 12: Realizations and Intruders

Song: I'm Gonna Get You by Bizarre Inc.

AN: The scene needed excitement and this song has all of that.

Chapter 13: Dinner?

Song: My Funny Valentine by Billie Holiday

AN: This version has a lot of seriousness when talking about the flaws of a person. How we still can see flaws in people that we like but we hope that they stay that way because that's how we love them. So, I actually don't consider this cover of My Funny Valentine that romantic but I felt that is what Garak saw in Erica. There are many things that he finds exasperating and things that he can't see which he wants to.

Chapter 14: Angry Dukat, Concerned Dresik

Song: The World Above from The Little Mermaid musical and Papa, Can You Hear Me? From Yentl

AN: I am not sure. It just fits with Erica seeing what is outside of Cardassia and what she misses about Cardassia.

Chapter 15: Small Memory

Song: No One Is Alone from Into the Woods

AN: Great song. Everyone should give it a listen. The message is so powerful.

Chapter 16: A Very Unexpected Gift

Song: Masquerade by the Carpenters

AN: "Are we really happy with this lonely game we play? Looking for the right words to say. Searching but not finding. Understanding anyway. We're lost in this masquerade."

Chapter 17: No More Mourning

Song: Your Song by Elton John

AN: Family love and how much people are willing to give to each other.

Chapter 18: I Don't Date Bajorans

Song: Rude Boy by Rihanna

AN: Erica's hostility went perfectly with this song.

Chapter 19: Getting To Know Kira

Song: I Think I'm Paranoid by Garbage

AN: I just kinda imagined Kira strutting around to this song. Kicking people's butts and being a bad ass while vulnerable and haunted at the same time.

Chapter 20: Half-Dead Gagh at 500 hrs

Song: Dreams by Fleetwood Mac

Chapter 21: Familiarity and Deceit

Song: To The Edge Of The Earth by Michael Nyman

AN: Treacherous.

Chapter 22: Repression and Shame

Song: The Dark I Know Well from Spring Awakening

AN: I wanted to have that connection of the treatment that is endured by the Cardassians with the suffering of their own internal struggles that no one else sees.

Chapter 23: Finale of Vengeance

Song: Problem Child by Leah Andreone

AN: This was used to capture the teen angst and conflicts that Erica had with her action but more importantly, what has led up to the emptiness that she experiences in contingency with her future.

Chapter 24: Ruined Goodbyes

Song: Habanera from Carmen

AN: This really just explains why Bashir and her were even discussing it.

Chapter 25: Sweet Dream

Song: Hell Yeah by Ani DiFranco

AN: I pictured this song as coming Garak. In the fact, that Erica is going to leave and he still hasn't sorted through what he really feels for her or if he can even understand. Yet, at the same, Erica is wondering the same for herself.

"Because I like you but I know you don't know it. I like you so much, I talk to everyone but you. And I wonder what you would think of this little number. Yeah, I wonder what you would say if you knew."

Chapter 26: Cardassian Mirror

Song: Paris Is Burning (Hacovnneed Mix) by Ladyhawke

AN: I love this mix. It's beautiful and very dark. This had to be what was inside of Erica's heart when she first realized what has happened to her.

"My heart is yearning but Paris is burning. Paris is burning all night long. My heart is dreaming but Paris is screaming. Paris is screaming all night long. I've lost my way."

Chapter 27: Blind to What is Beneath the Scales

Song: Tu Vas Me Détruire from The Hunchback of Notre Dame

AN: I'm not making a comparison between the relationship of Frollo and Esmeralda with Erica and Entek. There are themes in common but understanding between the characters is very different. Esmeralda didn't understand the motives of Frollo or feel inclined to understand. While Erica does mostly understand Entek.

Chapter 28: The Obsession Speaks

Song: Pretty Wings by Maxwell

AN: I needed that give and take that comes with complicated relationships. Plus, I wanted to show a little of regret on Entek's part.

Chapter 29: Faith Resequenced

Song: Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon by Tan Dun & Yo-Yo Ma

AN: I love this soundtrack and it meshed so well the emotion of the conversation.


	31. The People's Question

**Chapter 31**

**The People's Question**

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I knew these halls once. The openness that only a traditional Cardassian home could provide. The balance of warm Cardassian sandstone floor in its black shimmer. Walls made from the warped fibers of the Cauin timber that only the tallest mountains on Cardassia could bear. The ceilings are open for light to shine and covered only to hide from the cold winds.

This was my home.

My dull heels softly thud against carpet then stone. My nose detects it and then is filled with the scent of spiced Betazoid brandy and Bajoran tobacco. I do not need my senses to lead me around this house when I know it so well. I stayed here for so many summers and weekends during breaks from the academy.

_Father- No, Dresik._

His office stands open to me. He should not be here for several more hours. Thankfully, I arrived in Lakat only an hour ago and tactfully, under the dank moonlight. No one saw me clamber up the walls of the great city. They stood much higher than I had recalled but it was significant to understanding the nature of my abilities.

What I have witnessed is that my physical speed is not merely increased. I encountered a Jaral speeder while traveling through the streets. The Jaral class has an average speed of 45 mph. A common civilian transporter but I needed something to judge by. I happened to be fortunate enough for the streets to be relatively emptied by the midnight hour.

I kept up the pace and even surpassed it. Yet, I feel as though it's something more. Not necessarily speed but a knowing. It seemed to be a sensation inside of me that gave me the knowledge of when to side-step, leap, or climb.

The drip of rain claims me from self examining.

Dresik's small collection of books are turned down on the left side of the room. Uleni's book. I no longer step. I just move as I wish and there are no slowed movements. Instantly, I am here front of the books and shuffling through each title.

"The Ambition of Cardassia, Those of the Hebitian Society, Obsidian." From one book to the other, I scamper through. I have to find the book. I find myself blinking my eyes as a small sheet of pain is laid across my mind.

I drop a data pad and kneel in front of closed drawers. A grunt is cast out as something slightly resembling a headache takes over. My hands cover my ears from the falling sound of the sky's weeping; it's turned into auditory explosions. My eyes water from the squeezed muscles of my eyes in their frustrated squint.

Then as the hurt sharpens into screeching agony; I see what I seek.

I remember. I was in my first year on Cardassia and I was inside this room. It was early morning. My Cardassian brothers and I were playing. I was to be hidden away downstairs but I wanted to be undiscoverable. Dresik's office was always considered a forbidden crossing; at 14 years old, I considered myself beyond the age of crimination. My legs had fallen asleep from the cramped kneeling position as I had hid under Dresik's desk. I had scrambled out from the desk too quickly and had tapped the table top. Underneath the desk, a data pad had slipp-

The pain subsides as I recall that hidden enclave. Shaking my head and standing pick apart my injured state. As I pick up the dropped pad, I can hear what Q'ilik had told me.

"_Memory and other cognitive skills."_

He warned me that those would be altered but it feels completely changed. I had recalled everything that could possibly be experienced. The texture of lighting and scent. Tingliness in my legs and back from stooping for so long. Even the emotion of childish excitement at concealment and then adolescent curiosity at the fallen data pad.

I could have been 14 years old again in that moment of pain and remembrance.

My palm acts without my command and the data pad is there once again. Smoothly held out from cover in the thin hallow of the metal bureau. I take it and turn it over to the screen side. With a press of my thumb, the title appears.

The People's Question

Cardassian symbols are waved through page to page. I skim over them. I try to read but my eyes and brain are moving so fast that it makes the task impossible. The information passes through my vision and feels mentally engraved on the inside. The book is short; only 50 pages in length. Easily, after several minutes, I finish.

I slide the pad back into its hideout and step away in a deductive fashion. There was no mention of a people's question. It was a critique. An assessment of the history of Cardassia and the events that had led to the military government. Uleni's reasoning was tied in between the transformation of morals to life and art during the Second Hebitian period to the immoral transformation of the last Hebitian society. I grasp the meaning of her words.

_**The lack of questioning has led to the downfall of the sincere and legitimate Cardassian spirit. Will no one ask why?**_

My thoughts are trained towards the interpretation of Entek's words and her writings; their entanglement is only half solved. The landscape of Dresik's Calveen desk with its console and scattered pads reminds me of where I am. I will need to deal with this at a later time.

That thought is repeated when I hear Dresik Yaval at the front door. The front door being a stair case and several yards away. I practically leap and am outside the hall before he could reach the doorknob.

The front door is swung and his step is inside the doors.

I am perched up against the hall's ceiling and wall. The corner allows my hands and feet the necessary grip.

He is coming up the stairs.

From high above, I can see the exhaustion in his lack of vigor. No spring in the climb; only stomps on every stair.

I watch him move down the hall until he disappears inside the office.

With eyes closed, I smell him. His heartbeat drains in a laborious manner against my ears. Then I hear detect the heat of his breath being cooled against the wet glass of the windows. Not the east windows but the southern ones. The unnoticeable squeak of hands against glass is final telling.

In that instant, I drop and stand against the doorway. It is the time for our talk.

"Father."

A bulking in the shoulders is all that I note before Dresik turns. "Uleni, by the go-"

"No. No reconciliations. None of that."

His concern sets off a despair that I have not known. I can not let him continue. I am too vulnerable for anymore lies.

Perhaps, it is my face that can not conceal it or the strain in my voice but he doesn't go on. His kind face smiles mournfully as though he wants to cry; not rejoice in actuality. His beefy fingers touch the front of his armor in awkwardness. "You have changed."

My stare of disbelief is all that I can give. I can not believe that this is all that he can say. Dresik looks at my expression with an eyebrow raised as though to remind me that I am the child and he is the father. I want to fall for it but I can't. "Don't. Please don't. Not now."

His mouth opens then shuts in admission of my words. My adopted father clearly agrees with me. I don't follow his every movement as I should but I do see his hands stumble over each other. Attempting to point to the seat in front of the desk before giving up and falling in tandem with his legs while he takes his chair.

"As usual, you are right. I will not bother with acting unaware of the events that have recently befallen you. Please sit." I resist the urge to hurl the leather swing chair at his head and instead, slowly stroll to sit as he directs the conversation, "I must know how you came upon this conclusion."

Once seated, it seems that everything is to be settled so I begin, "I was not informed of this obscure plot nor of the reasons underlying my involvement. I came to this revelation on my own." The memory uncurls inside me but the pain from before is only a low throbbing that only feeds my desolation, "It may be possible that deep down, I have always known what was coming and what you really are."

"And what might that be?"

His pause yanks the statement and turns it into an accusation riding on my lips. "You are a dissident. Entek was a dissident. Q'ilik is one as well."

Dresik nods in a thoughtful expression. His mouths bunches up into that of containing a mouthful of something distasteful. Until his glare becomes one of desiring more of my revelation. I sink further into it with him.

"All of you plotted together to have Ghemor removed from the planet and put into the safety of the Federation. You were able to provide Garak and the others with a route onto the planet by an untraceable source; including access onto Cardassia. Entek could keep the Order in line and create alibis for the circumstances if necessary. Q'ilik performed all surgical operations."

Dresik puts his finger up in the air and interjects forcefully. "Entek acted independently from the Order and Central Command. I only knew minor details; as did Q'ilik."

I snort obnoxiously; not in doubt of his words. It just seems to express whatever I can not express. Derision, scorn, or unflattering surprise. Whatever this bile is that is coinciding with the same actions of the rain.

"I didn't understand all that babble about the "heart, mind, and soul" until now though. Only someone who fully knows you could probably understand it."

I look to him. Dresik. My caretaker. My father. He was supposed to be the last of my family. Now it feels like I have none. "You are the heart. Entek and Q'ilik were the mind and soul."

Another one of his silent pauses that are loaded with more than can probably be said.

"You knew that Ghemor driven off the planet will only increase civilian protests; he was their favorite. The military won't admit that they knew nothing of this and neither will the Order."

I top off my words with pursed lips and more watery eyes. It's not fair. This shouldn't feel like the end of everything.

A crack sounds off. I almost run out of the room until I see the pride on Dresik's face and his palms clapping happily. "Excellent deductions! You are truly a wonder. I told Entek that you are more than capable of any task that is given to you. I have always had nothing more than complete faith in you. Does all of this disturb you?"

Oh, the amazement. I want to pinch myself.

_Is he seriously pleased over this?_

I can not be certain this Cardassian is so delighted over being discovered. I roll my stare around on the ground and begin my next question without answering his. "This didn't start with me."

His happiness fades slightly at my brush-off.

"Father, what is the People's Question?"

He leans back in his chair. It swivels with the weight shift as he sighs and the level of grandeur that he had procured is lost to the subject at hand. "It must be said that Entek could never let an issue die. He truly believed in having no loose ends. I commend him for that, however the question that he left you is not an easily answered one."

"It was a book of Uleni's. He had mentioned that."

"Yes, her first and shortest."

"Do you have a copy remaining?"

"All were destroyed. Except for a limited few. You may take one with you when you leave."

"Did you kill her?"

Dresik clutches the collar of his armored uniform. The gleam of his Glinn buttons catches my eyes. I concentrate on those as he juts his jaw and tinkers with whatever he might be considering. "I gave her a Breain timer and a dose of gilwexin." His eyelids flutter in recognition of the hardship of that particular memory. "She gave me five minutes to have our sons out of the house."

I do not wish to push him but it must be confirmed. "Is she truly deceased?"

"If there was an option, like the one we had with you, then I would have taken it. But there was no other choice, Uleni. My wife is dead."

I stand up to get away from his regret. It is too close to being my regret. My throat almost floods over with grief at everything that I am involved in but I hold it back and tour the surroundings distractedly. "I have figured out practically everything. I would like to believe that you knew that no harm was going to come and that is why you allowed Entek to take me."

"I never trusted Entek. I knew that he had a very unhealthy liking for you. That was the only assurance." I face him and pray that he is jesting. He shyly glimmers under my stare. "Yes, I knew. I counted on that. As well as the fact that he knew you were an asset that we couldn't afford to waste."

I shake my finger at him and it makes me feel like a little girl who is upset with her father. Not a 19 year old agent facing her adopted father with his shady past. "I could blame you. All of you. Except for the fact that this did not begin with me. I don't think that any of you even planned for me to enter this war. I simply walked into a brush of conspiracies that have entangled me and now I can't get out."

"You are wrong. We were not going to force you into another scheme. Do you think your death was merely a cover so that we could use you?"

I don't answer him. The trap is there for me to fall in and for him to triumph over the conversation.

"It wasn't. It was meant to create an opportunity. To join us and truly help Cardassia or to leave. All we wanted was to give you a choice before Central Command took it away."

This discussion is turning into an argument in my mind as I tumble into more annoyance. "I have known since my arrival that Central Command would expel me from their ranks in whatever manner they chose. Didn't you know?"

His hands are up in a manner of calming my temper. "I had foolishly hoped that your aptitude and willingness would change their minds but it had not. After your mission on Terek Nor, you were to be disposed of. I knew because Entek informed me and showed me the council's decision against you." Dresik grumbles sarcastically. "How comical to think that we had to kill you to save you."

"No one is laughing."

He is free from his chair's confines and within reaching distance by an act of exasperation. The hostility at my reply is loaded and pointed at me. "Then smile. You are alive. You are meant to be dead and you are not. You have opportunity beyond belief-"

I bellow back at him as he had; only at a higher level and with hysterics on my side. "You think that just because I can now come and go as I please that there are no repercussions from your decisions? Look at what you have done to me! I am no longer recognizable and there is no indication of what my life will be."

He takes off to the other side of the room but does not escape from my words as they continue to take form.

"You think I have a choice? What choice? I am human and Cardassian! The ideology behind my existence is treasonous. You might have saved me but I can just be condemned with even less difficulty at this moment."

The windows welcome me. Their coldness stings just enough to keep the tears in and my collectiveness held. I place my hands against them and lean my spooned forehead to the freezing glass.

"I feel that you are neither angry nor fearful. Only sad." Dresik treats my words like they are a simply math equation and he is the scientist to solve it. "Why, Uleni? In reality, were you truly human through and through? Did you share their ideals and culture? Are you guided by some mislead belief that the Federation would not sacrifice you to save themselves?"

My body follows my heart's directive and faces him while I wish to be anywhere else but here listening to him.

"When you looked at Garak, were you disgusted and appalled by his manners or past? Or did you understand and sympathize and cling to him because he reminded you of home? Of here. You are no more human than I am."

Dresik looks down at me from his slightly taller view. I glare back with the same smugness. "When I was among the humans and Bajorans, I detested almost every moment. You are right; Garak was a constant source of comfort. But there were humans who were capable of fine manners and conversation. Exceptional people. They are the ones who gave me the allowance of accepting my humanity."

Then the truth that I tried to cover and bury somewhere in the dark is resurfaced. "Garak let me be myself. Whatever that may be. I had never had that with anyone and what I know now is that I am all of these things. I am everything but I was born a human and have become something of a Cardassian."

With a movement of head, he shows his understanding. "I mistook sadness for thought. Forgive me."

I ignore his sentiment again. I have to be blunt with him before he has the opportunity to convince me otherwise. "If I leave this world behind, what will you do?"

"Oh, live under an oppressive military government. Listen to Laqar whine over another passing promotion. Watch my sons raise their children and witness their lives mirror their fathers'. Generation after generation of genocide of self; that is what will become of me." He starts facing off towards the south windows as I stand at the east. "But you can change it."

"I think your faith may be overly confident in me."

Only our words meet in this room.

"No one knows that you exist. Uleni Yaval is dead. Erica Steele is dead. You can become whoever you want. The influence that you could have in the battles that are to come will be enormous."

"And I will remain anonymous."

A sigh is the only highlight that conclusions being reached. "It is the only way, I'm afraid."

A calmness is taking its position in my heart. The truth is out. I know everything, and it seems that all I have thought of is true. How strange of a thing it is to have a conspiracy combed out. It's like-

_Like the storm outside._

I look past the glass and to the outside. The moon is brighter then before. The rain has ceased. Only a howl of quiet is over the dewy sheen of the moistened Cardassian buildings.

_From destruction, there can be creation._

"Does the dissident movement even know about your little trio?"

The same snort that I let out is echoed by Dresik and I have to bite my lip not to smile. "Even we are anonymous and shadowed to our own cause, dearest one."

I speak to the window as though it were my current companion. "The heart, mind, and soul was not based on the dissident movement, was it?"

"Originally, we were three acquaintances trained together at the academy. All of us were taking different paths and living outside of the other's realm. Our lives were not entwined until Uleni." Reminisces Dresik in a fatherly tone as though we were actually blood-relations.

"Let me guess. You married her. Entek was investigating her activities. Q'ilik was a follower of her books and ideals."

Chuckling and merriment are so easy for Dresik to transition to. "Yes. Entek warned me about the danger Uleni was facing. I did all in my power to take her to safety but it was unsuccessful." Tiredness creeps in as though the years hung on his shoulders. "Q'ilik was serving as a doctor inboard the planet. He served on the scene of Uleni's death."

Picturing the situation is not that difficult. Uleni Yaval was a martyr. Her untimely fall stood as a symbol of the oppressionist Cardassian military and remains as so. The dissident movement has been known to spawn many of their theories of societal formation from her writings; all are in favor of a Pro-civilian government. The only part that remains blank is how I can bring forth even a fraction of the change that these three Cardassians are so confident about.

"There was a moment when all three of us were alone in the same room as her body All of us were tired. Entek was continuously competing with Garak."

He is only mentioning Garak to tease me. "You can only imagine how outraged he was when you and Garak were so close."

I do not bother to acknowledge the small dig at my expense.

"Q'ilik felt that the occupation cruel and unnecessary. I wanted to avenge Uleni."

And there is the connections; all garnered. The basis of their groups and "lack" of ideologies. With the vast improvement of my memory, I effortlessly bring together the whirlpool of events that surround their formation as terrorists. Clearly, that is what they are; no matter how the blow might attempt to be softened. I stare out at the open city with more fascination as the Bajoran Occupation takes on another shade of historical relevance in my understanding. Grazing calmly over my idea, I offer it.

"The Bajorans gained a weapons contract with the Orion Syndicate the same year as Uleni's death. I will not question your involvement as it is presumed. Central Command would be beyond furious. Mad and crazed. Completely shaken if they knew were ran out of Bajor by three of their own."

The irony. I could lay down laughing and marveling for days over the entire deviance of Dresik and the others. A big smile is my quiet gratitude. The facial muscles might ache in their sudden burst of activity but I love it.

_Oh, how I wish Kira were here. She would just…die._

"The next war will be beyond what we have ever encountered. We need you and I don't want it to be assumed that you are obligated. Your years serving in the military was payment enough for the your own revenge."

_What a way to kill the moment, Dresik._

Although, that does bring back the reason that I have come here. "You have yet to answer me. What is the People's Question?"

"You've already read the book." In the window's reflection, I see him snapping open a bottle of brandy and pouring two glasses. "No worries that I detected you in my house. You left no signs of intrusion and the book doesn't contain it."

A full dose of his favorite brandy is set next to my hand on the window's ledge. "The title is the People's Question but the content follows along the lines of a social criticism of the objectives of the military government. The people's question is the inquiry that the Cardassian nation should ask before ever agreeing with any policy of war or aggression."

I don't take the refreshment. I face him and his closed proximity next to me. The conclusion is in his words and hers. The light of final comprehension and the joy of discovery transforms into vocal breath.

"The question and answer are same."

Dresik tips the glass and nods sweetly. "Yes, yes. That is one way of looking at it."

Having more confidence then before in this absurd offer, I lean the contents of the brandy from one rounded space to the next. "What makes you assume that I would ever agree to join you?"

"You love Cardassia."

I retort sharply through the glass as I gulp. "That much? Your expectations run rather high."

"You have family here. A home." His gesture includes the entirety of the house and himself. "Entek named you in his will, so you have an identity to go under. Raiec Entek; his niece. The last step is your confirmation."

I hear him. I hear the affection and the loyalty. I want to listen though. Objectively and detached in the way of taking in his sentiments without being ripped through the heart. However, I can not separate my heart from what has been stitched so crookedly inside. "I- I will need to think about it."

With a finished swig, Dresik blurts out. "I love you, dearest one. I adore you and I have savored every moment that you have shared with us. I only hope that you have come to feel the same towards us. I think that you have the same regard. I can see it when you speak of Cardassia and its people."

The crystal eyes and silver strands only solidify the fatherliness of his persona. The depth of emotion that is within them can only be understood by another Cardassian. It is a love that humans seem to bypass or consider as insanity. To love so much that we kill ourselves and others before even considering that what we love or how we love might be false.

_That is what Uleni meant._

Cardassia loves its people and the people love Cardassia but the people are killing Cardassia. We, Cardassians, are the rough lovers that have drained Cardassia of its ardor. We take and revel but when it is time to give; we have already failed it. So, we have learned to love by hating. To adore Cardassia and despise the other systems so that we can take from them and give to it.

_I do love Cardassia but I do not love it like a Cardassian. That is what they see._

A hand upon my shoulder. "What I am trying to express is that this must not be farewell."

"I need to see the Shri-tal."

_It may have been meant to be this way._

Dresik disappears from me and is at the chair within three words to offer it to me. "Of course, this console is secure if you wish."

I lay my hand on his shoulder in the same act of caring. His kind expression does not make it any easier. Grasping his shoulder, I dig my thumb in until he kneels in pain. He gasps at me from as I stand with a hypospray in one hand and my other against his scales. I ignore his attempts at wrangling off my grip; I would have thought that he would known better than to fight these new "improvements" of mine. His nails cut against my skin and try to dig in my muscles with the same strength.

Impossible. With the press of the instrument against his tendon, I try to calmly explain. "I'm sorry, Father but for now, our trust is in need of some repair."

Then like those small human game pieces that fall so easily when tipped; the sedative hits him and his body hits the floor.

**AN: Entire thing done to Numb (Cover by Jamelia) by Linkin Park**


	32. ShriTal

**Chapter 32**

**Shri-Tal**

With Dresik asleep on the floor and with the amount of deríjk in his veins, I have more time than what I conclude as necessary. I lower myself into the cushioned seating and make myself comfortable. Then the I take the rod out.

_The shri-tal. _

The choice.

My fingers twirl the miniscule shaft from tip to tip as I relay what I have just learned. The heart, mind, and soul. Dresik, Entek, and Q'ilik. All involved in some of the greatest instances of Cardassian history. All are certifiably traitors by Cardassian law.

And I am just one step behind them.

Blowing air through my nose to purposely make that snuffing sound isn't helping. Yet, here I sit and it's the only action that I can take. My thoughts have never left me in a more void-like state.

_I suppose it is time. That moment of making a stand. Choosing a side._

For some clarity of what I may or may not do; I stare at Dresik's prone form. The scaled armor and what it represents. How the military covers a Cardassian man but inside, there is a heart can overtake the uniform. Like the Cardassian flesh that lays over heart and muscle for my own comparison. My heart was once Cardassian and the body carried on as a human.

Now, it is Cardassian and my heart hangs on to the Cardassian soul with a human's embrace.

The data rod slides in without interference. The first lock opened with a swipe of my palm. Then the enigma lock.

**What is the People's Question?**

My hands tiptoe over the Cardassian keyboard and the symbols spell the key.

**Why?**

A blackness settles across the glossy screen. I see that there are several files in the memory scan and one visual message for me. I tap against the command key to view it and wait.

"Erica. I knew that you would triumph."

Corbin Entek. The devious visage is subdued but smiling in front of me. This has to be the last message that he ever sent.

"Although while you were drawing the password out of Dresik, I pray that you left him with minimal damage. He means you no harm and should be considered a source of future aid."

A small glance at the only source of creaky snoring confirms my mental retort.

_Dresik will be fine, in that case._

"I do hope that you do not consider this to be difficult because this will be the least taxing of all missions that are set before you." The dark eyes go somewhere off the screen's view. Downwards in what I can surmise is an action of avoidance. "I may be positioned as the least effective of all those who are straining to win your conscience on this matter. If there were any words to be offered, it would be to not do this."

_The surprises keep getting bigger and bigger, don't they?_

"Dresik would be quite devastated by my advice but as his alias entails, he is only led by that particular aspect of self. But I do not want this life for you." Back into my stare, his eyes return. With a tone of begging that makes me more uncomfortable than I would have expected. "I like to imagine that you left Cardassia and will have disappeared into another existence. Where you may go and whoever you will be; I am not concerned with. However, for you to give yourself so freely for this little cause of ours is quite unmanageable in my mind."

The only distraction from this emotional declaration is the tap of my toe against the desk's legs. Something to keep me grounded.

"I realize that we have accomplished much for the betterment of Cardassia but it is not your responsibility. At least, it should not be your responsibility. If you decline, I ask that you go as far away as can be imagined and live without another thought of what you have known. And if you accept this impossible challenge, I will relinquish the shri-tal to you." His image crowds the screen and I realize that it is only him leaning forward for a whisper in desperation. "Do you accept?"

"I do accept."

_So…I am really going to do this. _

The message skips over to another data file and I find a different perception of Entek. He is more rested. Much more serious and business-like. This is the Entek that I had known. Fierce and disciplined with nothing out of place. Even his eyes call for a feeling of whoever is confronting him to feel weak and submissive.

_Except for myself._

"This will not be the traditional shri-tal. I have many enemies and as much as I do like to envision the death of Garak by your hands; I will not waste time with this petty conflicts."

A small flutter of something indistinguishable opened up at his words. I once imagined killing Garak but now the thought is unimaginable. Especially, when Entek is grinning through the screen as though he had predicted what I would be feeling.

"There is so much more for them to suffer by the events that are yet to come. The collapse of the Cardassian empire. I know that you might be suffering from an unavoidable bout of skepticism."

_Bypass the skepticism and bring forward the frenzy of calamity._

"But it will pass. The foundation of this mishap of a government must be brought down and exposed for the corruptive morsel that our people have been feeding on."

A file opens in front of me. I quickly follow one word to another and immediately wonder if Entek was losing his mind at the end of his days. "You are going to expose the poison that all of us have swallowed for generations and then you are going to offer the antidote. The entirety of this operation is much too vast for a duration of one year. However, with the unsuspecting aid of the Dominion, it is possible to turn the tide of our world without the wait of decades."

The information presented only satisfies the meagerness in his voice. A long list of Cardassian officers and their connections are webbed together; the weave of power. Gul Dukat is not in the middle and neither is Enabran Tain. There is none.

_Has the flow of power really become so unpredictable_?

There are separate groups, each with their own agenda and none, it seems, are lead by leaders that are rallying for the betterment of Cardassia. However, my mind trips over Entek's final words.

_Dominion?_

His features seem to roll into a solace of personal conference. As though he's forgotten that he's speaking to me but simply to another agent.

"The Dominion is going to be instrumental in a very unorthodox and immoral manner. I need you to abandon whatever sense of good intentions and ethics that you possess. You do not answer to the Order. You do not answer to Central Command. Dresik is not your father any longer. You are ineffective to us if you ever revert to your former identity. You need to understand this." The screen fills up with a far deadlier gaze then the living Entek could have ever produced. "Nothing must ever link you to the fact that you were Uleni Yaval."

Just as soon as he had loomed in front of the screen, he is seated just as promptly. "I removed your file from the Central Command archives and your profile from the Order's network. Exactly, 1 hour after your death. Then after you were confirmed to be deceased; I was ordered to remove all evidence of your existence on Cardassia."

More files spring up. I push them to the side; already knowing that these are the same records that Entek means.

"Dresik was given the same orders. The only detail that Uleni Yaval was ever alive is in the recorded date of your death. You are listed as a Cardassian agent that was stationed in the hostile zone of Zestas 2 and was killed in a raid by the Maquis. No detail of your humanness is given at all. This information might be useful in the future so I advise you to keep note of this."

_Will do._ Coincidentally, I think of places to hide this data rod as he goes on.

"These records do not confirm that you were a human nor that you were not from Cardassia but there are subtle clues within the context of the files that could hint at _Uleni Yaval _being much more than the average agent." He rests his fingers together and practically mutters the next sentence. "Your DNA records were also destroyed. You must remember that Uleni Yaval was not meant to ever have existed."

_Yes, we are both tired of you repeating that bit._

"As for your new identity; you are now Raiec Entek. My estranged niece."

Through the reflection against the console screen, I see the Cardassian moon slowly sinking. The window pane begins to cut it in half as I go on listening against the softened remnants of rain.

"Do not assume that there was never a Raiec Entek. My niece had existed and died of Lariel fever at the age of 5 months while on Bajor. I was Raiec's only remaining relative. Both parents died on Bajor during a bombing on the Sariyt colony." His fingers touch upon the screen and more of the data rod is unlocked. "Everything that you need to know about our family lineage and history is within the third file on this data rod. Your background and mannerisms are specifically listed."

_Raiec. Erica._

_That can not be as simple as a coincidence. _

"As Raiec Entek, you are expected to be cunning, ruthless, and above all, loyal to the Cardassian state. You will use any and every means to gain what you want; power and status. I want you serving as Dalin under Gul Dukat in no more than 14 months."

I start choking on my spittle. My eyes open glaringly and I try to make it past the audacity of such a task.

"Someone must feed Dukat the idea that establishing a compact with the Dominion will be in the best interest of Cardassia. That will be you. Gain his trust and his ear. He has an eye for beauty and wit but never express any sort of threatening posture." Anger rolls through Entek's words in an instant. "If he asks for your body, then you must give it to him. He wants you to throw another Gul out of an air lock, then you do not question the order."

The idea of submitting to the darker side of Dukat's lechery does not sit well in my stomach. I turn my head to side and try to clear my mind of the thoughts that had formed under those insidious words. Disgusting.

But it is not impossible. Entek calls it an "impossible challenge. What makes it so impossible? Empires rise and fall within in the same year throughout the galaxies. I will make this happen. No matter what the cost.

"I have studied the impressive and formidable strength of the Dominion." No files but his words strike harder and harder through the console. "By making them our allies, we do not have to suffer from the damage that may be inflicted by us. Our planet's location will put us at a disadvantage in terms of what the war will bring. In times of battle."

_We would be one of the first planets overran if the Dominion were to gain the upper hand._

"The Federation will not allow us membership and the military government would never submit to a non-aggression policy. If the Dominion triumphs, being on their side will save us from infinite destruction at their hands." Entek catches a drop in his voice and his worry radiates something similar inside my bones. "If the Dominion fails, you know all too well that Federation ethics will not give them the benefit of raiding our planet into oblivion when we become the spoils of war."

_Cardassia becomes open water and all will come for it. Unless we are members of the winning side._

"Erica."

Eyes meet and from the grave, I could swear that he is speaking directly to me.

"If there is a person in existence that could fulfill this task, it is you." Small crinkles at the sides of his vision are the only indication of sentiment. A warmth that I had witnessed once. "Heart, mind, and soul. Uleni."

And he is vanished. Back to the depths of wherever.

My hands on my legs slide up and down. Calm, calm. I have to hold tightly to the tendrils of strength that don't fade in the confrontation of difficulties. I cannot step back from this now.

The Cardassian body on the floor of my claimed patriarch. The shri-tal. My own body stretched over with scales and gray.

I can take care of this. I can give more of myself that I have before.

All for them. Dresik. Garak. My brothers. Perhaps, even Entek.

I haul up from my seat and I know the trinity inside myself has committed themselves fully. I finally have faces to put to those whom I serve. It is every Cardassian. Even the ones who will fall under my hands; it is for them. I will do this. I will destroy the Cardassian empire.


	33. The Dalliances of a Dalin

******AN: Ok, there is going to be a small change in writing styles. This chapter is going to skip from scene to scene. Can't help myself. Have to get the story moving.**

**Chapter 33**

**The Dalliances of a Dalin**

*)*)(*(*)*)(*(*

"Dalin Entek."

I have made it. A year is all that the effort demanded. One year of unshorn brutality. One year of methodical thinking and planning. Living with the discipline that would shame any monk. Committing deeds that would cause any saint to weep with exhaustion and any Orion slave girl to blush at the my endeavors of carnality.

I have gone farther into the depths of immorality than I had ever imagined could be traveled.

Interestingly enough, there comes a point when all that one thinks of is _I have done worse. _I tell myself that all the time. When I have to destroy another person; life or reputation. Lay my body down for one more rendezvous of the flesh. Steal something worthwhile. I remind myself of this.

_I have done worse._ Despite the fact that I am probably committing a much more terrible crime than before when I am repeating this. My life is laughable.

"Your service on the bridge is without rival. Your combat abilities are legendary. As for your other capacities; shall we say, flawless in their performance."

I gained Dukat's attention at a tournament. A very infamous tournament. It is an old one, known as _Dalin Sk'eth_, dedicated to the abilities of the Dalins. In the beginning of Cardassian warfare, a Dalin was not simply a third officer. They were the end of the command line. After the Gul and Dal are killed, it was up to the Dalin to lead the armies into war for the final blow. We were meant to die bravely and without question. Dalins had to be the better warriors and leaders. Who else but the best can convince and lead their warriors into an inevitable slaughter.

The tournament is based on those factors. The basis for victory is who dies last. Few have ever gotten out alive. The Dalin dies first. That is the expected outcome.

I defied it. With my new "talents," I escaped it. I conquered the crowd and won Dukat's interest. Thankfully, it is truly my ability as a Dalin that he has used. Everything else, I count as part of the job description.

"You are loyal, Entek, and that is where you are truly valuable. I have come to view you as family. A daughter, if you will."

His office is so wonderfully dank. I no longer focus on things like that. I used to. I once would admire the aesthetics of a location. The architecture and decoration. The mood that emitted from all of it. I can't do that anymore. Now, I keep my eyes on the truth of the situation.

For instance, his desk is practically smashed against the wall. Useful to me. It means that I could leap across and pin him before he can even exit the space. However, I know that his phaser is kept underneath in an alcove. I would have to be quick.

This room is also exactly 5 kilometers from the transporters. A quick sprint but I know that I have to pass through several crowded areas. The safest way to get throug-

"And as a daughter, I would trust you with my other children's' lives. Like Ziyal."

_Tora Ziyal. _His daughter. So young. So tiny. So naïve.

She has been accompanying us for longer that I had anticipated. Months. I never imagined that someone like her would appear out of the confines of Dukat's leviathan-sized closet. Yes, the Cardassian is known for his array of mistresses. Bajoran or not. Yet, seeing his half-caste daughter everyday is a reminder that he has lost face with our empire. Her presence has set back the plans that were left for me to complete.

I had lost hope of ever finishing my mission. This girl has cost Dukat his position and influence on Cardassia. I have lost my own resources; merely by being a part of this ragtag crew. All because of Dukat's insatiable lust.

At first, it was easy to blame the child. Scorn her and ignore her. I agreed and nodded with all the other officers when we mourned the loss of affluence for our Gul. But when they were gone and I was alone in my quarters. As I stared up at the nothingness of the ceiling, I quietly admitted the truth to myself; it is not her. Ziyal is more innocent than any single person on this ship.

So, now I merely acknowledge her presence and go about my business. I am quite confused why Dukat is even mentioning her to me.

"You will accompany her for the duration of her stay on the station."

_What did he say?_ I know that I am standing straight and strong but my legs feel gelatinous. I want to answer him. His lips are smiling and I know that we are sharing an eye contact of deep gravity but I have no reply. My thoughts start zooming around without any halt.

_I won't be here. I won't be serving under Dukat. I will be on Terek Nor. Oh by the gods. I am going back to Terek Nor. With Gara-_

"Your silence worries me, Entek." He has certainly stopped smiling now.

Hurriedly, I find my voice and jumpstart it. "I am surprised, sir. This is not included in my usual duties."

"It is an order, Dalin." He speaks over the desk as though I were only two inches tall.

Coincidentally, I feel no more than that; as if I were only so small. "I am not debating the legitimacy of this task." I have to pause and think of the most delicate way to phrase this. "But is this necessary? Won't your daughter be under the care of one of the Bajoran officers?"

The smile is back. Thank every deity in existence, Dukat is smiling again.

"And that is where a complication arises, Entek. Major Kira is a Bajoran and she is quite close to Ziyal; the influence of her Bajoran side is much too dominant."

"How could I possibly be of aid?"

"You are a Cardassian and a female. You can offer Cardassian influence and protect her."

_Oh, the irony._

"Your daughter is not fond of me, Gul Dukat."

"She doesn't know you, Dalin. She only knows you as one of my officers."

_The game is becoming more dangerous by the second._

A cleared throat sounds off for me to continue. "Even so, I do not know if my presence in your daughter's life will be welcomed. I don't know what you wish to be accomplished by this."

Dukat nods as though he understands everything. My supposed worry and hesitance. As if he were peering into the back of my mind and soul to the dark reaches of my heart. Long fingers clasp and unclasp. Gul inscriptions in pitch armor shines as their owner announces with finality. "Her safety and for her to obtain a strong connection with her Cardassian side."

I can not argue against a point that has been stated twice but I must know more. "For how long?"

"Until I feel that you will better serve in another manner." His lightened eyes catch a gleam from a lighted pad. "The details of your mission on this. Brief yourself on the construction and ability of Terek Nor."

From one hand to another passes my instructions. It travels through the warm air and is held up by cool palms. I glance briefly at it before my commander speaks once again.

"We arrive within three days. That is all. You are dismissed, Dalin Entek."

Z-0-Z-0-Z-0*-0-*0-Z-0-Z-0-Z

I ask the hour and the computer responds dully.

400 hours. Only three more until we reach the station. Terek Nor in all of its disdain and love. I will see it once again. The sweeping vision that only it can give. Long implements serving as shields. Long windows for the space to see its inhabitants. Moderately chaotic organized promenade. It will all lay before me once again.

Sighing languidly into the Cardassian pillow and remnants of kanaar flair up.

"No more drinking before bed."

It didn't help anyway. I have been lying here throughout the night. I don't toss and turn; not my style. Just flat on my stomach. Left leg curled on top of my right. I used to sleep on my back but it was too "familiar."

A sound knocks me off the bed and onto my feet. I barely feel the whirl of cool air as I sail around the doorway. Someone is at the door.

The desensitizing cloth is cut low in the back for the spine ridges. Hardly indecent. My billowing night pants cover me in a very modest manner. If it's a higher ranked officer, I should be acceptable.

"Enter."

Sky blue eyes. Only one other person has the same shade of eyes as Dukat.

"Ziyal." Her name comes off as an accusation from me but I don't pretend to feel any amiability. It wouldn't serve me well in the months to come. She doesn't believe any of his officers to favor her.

My manners are not forgotten though, "Welcome."

The young woman indirectly tilts her head towards me and comes through the door with only small dalliance. Unlike me, she is dressed. The mauve fabric cuts across her shoulders in a Cardassian manner. I wonder if she will dress so Cardassian once we are amongst the station; she is half-Bajoran after all.

"My father has just told me that you are going with me. He is very adamant that you come."

She won't take a seat. So, I tucker down on the only sofa in the room. "I know. I was shocked, at the least. I would assume that you objected to this arrangement."

"I will not live under someone else's word. Even if it is my father." Ziyal's voice raises in pitch but not in volume. " I have already lived too long under oppression. So, I have come here to tell you that I will not abide with any overprotective protocol or security procedure ordered by my father."

No need to watch her. I listen carefully and examine the scars running criss-cross over my knuckles.

"My orders are to protect you and to educate you about Cardassia. Not control the amount of oxygen you intake or the steps you make on the promenade. I am a soldier. Not a nursemaid or a body guard." An order spoken outside the door catches my attention but not hers. "I take orders from my commanding officer and these are his demands. They will be met without any conflict from you or myself."

"How could you allow-"

Standing in front of her and looming closer than is normally allowed shuts her up. Although I don't bother with explaining any of it nicely to her. "Safe, and knowledgeable about Cardassian culture and history. That is all that either of us must fulfill."

Her elegant features scrunch up in a faraway expression of distaste before cooling. "Will you watch me on the station when I leave my quarters?"

"Very quietly. You may not even be aware of my presence."

"Monitoring my communications and interactions with friends?"

"Unfortunately yes." As if that is going to be the center of my attention, her social life. "But I will not interfere. Your father does not need to know everything."

"Are you also ordered to be my friend?"

_Hadn't expected that one._

Slowly, I answer as though unsure. "No."

That must have been her farewell question because she heads towards the door at my reply. "Good. I wouldn't want to be friends with someone who is being forced to be so."

_I couldn't agree more._

I nod to her. "Very well. I think we understand each other."

"I think we do. Good day, Dalin."

"Good day, Ziyal."

She leaves me with nothing more than a conscience full of dread at the months to come.

_Why couldn't I have been stationed on the front lines?_

"Dalin Entek."

It has been equal to two years since I have walked this room. The baseball on the desk. A legend in its own right. But the desk. There is a sense of magnetism to it. As though it calls to remind everyone that its owner is no ordinary human.

"Captain Sisko." How difficult it is to not smile and greet him as I once did. I lock my knees to stop any movement; only an incline of the head.

Sisko, however, sits immobile. The raw color of his uniform. The razor edge of his eyes below a sturdy brow. Immersed skin. The caution lingers above him in the office's dry air.

"Gul Dukat shared me with the details of your mission. Can you reiterate them for me?" His mouth moves in a momentum of dead sobriety.

I follow the same rhythm. "Protect Tora Ziyal. Remain with her at all times. Monitor her communications and interactions for any sign of danger or distress. Be discrete."

"I would like that last one to be your second most important lead."

I arch my neck even higher and am practically saluting the ceiling. "Understood, Captain."

As he listens, I see that untouchable and undeniable characteristic of Sisko's. His humanity. It haunted me during my last mission; it strikes out again. His brown stare is dripping with pity. Some dislike, maybe not for me necessarily but my uniform. What it represents, and possibly my Cardassian mannerism.

Sisko is looking for something. I know it. I even know the word. It's the same thing that cannot be separated from him and that which tortures me still.

"Dalin Entek, you wouldn't happen to be related to Corbin Entek?" Wheeze passes through his voice.

Lying doesn't work with Sisko. There can be no room for mistakes. "Yes, sir. He was my uncle."

Gliding out, his hand plucks up the ball. "You can relax, Dalin. I am only aski-"

He doesn't need to explain anything to me. I already understand his worry. He fiddles with ball and tries to place a sense of restriction over my actions. However, I beat him to it.

"You are asking if I am going to avenge my uncle." The ball stops rolling over in sanded palms and my beveled chin lowers, "You have concern that I may kill the Cardassian tailor."

Sisko merely looks. Merely asking for me to expand on why I won't be murdering Garak. I take a breath and begin the lines. Like any experienced liar, I don't hide the uncertainty or the emotion. I let it all out. I turn the truth into a lie and that lie into a truth.

"My uncle Corbin and I were not close, sir." The formality pens itself out but he doesn't halt my progression. "I didn't know him very well. My parents died while I was an infant. I was sent away at a very young age. I had no feasible connection with my family."

"I see." He wanders off in volume then rises again. Like he lost a thought and collected it once again. "In that case, I expect Mr. Garak to remain in the condition that he is currently in."

"Of course, sir." Then my own idea. One that keeps returning and will not be ignored, slips through my closed demeanor. I need to warn the captain about one possibility that may complicate matters.

I visibly relax and tighten up all in once breath. "However, if the tailor seeks out the young Ziyal and I find that his intentions are less than innocent- I will act as I have been ordered."

The human man throws the ball up into air. Arcing and flashing its maroon binding against a background of stars. I follow its path and know that words are the end of it.

Just as it comes back down, a sigh. "I understand perfectly, Dalin."

Up from behind his desk, the captain stands just as powerfully in front of me.

"But if Mr. Garak," He's been drinking coffee. His breath is heavy with the cooked scent. "Is not found with a weapon on him, or the young lady is not horribly injured. And I find that Mr. Garak has suffered at all; you are who I will be speaking to."

His anger is like a vacuum. It sucks something. My fear. My attention. I feel them flowing down my spine and being ripped through my cavity. All leaving behind a quivering mass of a person. The only reactive thing in my veins is the adrenaline. Licking and kicking as a fire of war would. I have learned to savor the excitement of it. Even now, I hope that he will raise a hand. Then we would battle.

But he takes a step back. I no longer have to crane my neck to meet his gaze. Yet, I hardly move. Both of us appear out of breath and on the edge of something that both have no words for. We only understand it without any mislabeling.

"Have I made myself clear, Dalin?"

Dropping my sight to the floor and I nod faintly. "Very, sir. Your point has been taken. The tailor will suffer no brutality from me unless-"

The darkened whiff of the same anger returns and I retreat by words.

"Unless it is under the exact circumstances that you have recently outlined."

Back behind his desk, his satisfaction is written on his face. "Thank you, Dalin. You are locked on and will transported back to your quarters."

The last scene I see is that baseball being placed back in its holder.

**AN:** So, I am going to be really nice. I am leaving a little teaser for what's to come in the future chapters. Just to show you guys that I'm working on it. This story is not up for abandonment at all. To be honest, I am working forward and working backwards on the story. It's kind of trip but I get all these ideas at once and yeah…You know what I mean. So, here it is. A little, and I mean tiny, taste of one of the future chapters.

*G*G*G*G*G*G*G*G*G*G*G*G*G*G*G*G*G*G*G*G*

The head judge asks the Cardassians once again for their examiner.

Madame Archon glances pleadingly at me as though I can solve thi-

The high doors of the halls open. The only Cardassian that I have sought to never encounter again steps through. His walk resonates in my mind and drowns out the Madame's introduction. I can only hear and see him.

Elim Garak.

I want to restrain the heated pounding of my heart and desperation that is sure to sink into my voice. Yet, he is here. He is going to be my prosecutor. As I watch his movements from speaking to Madame Arcaine to addressing the court; I remember every moment between us. None comes so close to affecting me so much though as the farewell in my quarters on Terek Nor.

"Gul Raiec Entek of the 2nd Order." Garak states in a poised manner and of course, only displays the politeness of a Cardassian. "Do you plead guilty in your stated crimes against the Cardassian empire?"

I want to stay serious. I want to be scorned and shamed by what I have done. Why must I be so overjoyed to converse with him for this last time?

_Why? Why? Why!_

"Gul Entek." He repeats my name and I only give him a blank expression. "Do you accept your admission?"


	34. A Monster and A Child

**Chapter 34**

**A Monster and a Child**

1!1!1!1!1!1!1!1!1!1!1!1!1!1!1!1!1!1!1

Klingon. Humongous. Wearing leather the color of drowned earth. Clearly not a council member or soldier. I say that he is not a soldier because the weaponry is all wrong. Soldiers carry phaser and blade. He only carries a hammer. From this angle above the lower level, I can only guess that he is a merchant.

_Why else would he be screaming in Klingon and throwing Jumish lettuce at a crying Bolian chef…_

Slow day for me. I have shadowed Ziyal across the station and back to our quarters then out again. The girl can hardly stand to stay still. Always has to be moving.

She is an imp. Already she has tried to sneak out twice without a word. Late in the night. Although at every show of indignation, I also sense that she wants to explain herself.

_Why do so, young Ziyal? It won't stop you from doing the same thing again. I can guarantee that._

The upper level promenade is quite empty at this hour. It is past lunch but many hours before even a decent supper. Passer-bys pay me no attention. All they can see is a middle-aged Bajoran woman.

Holo-masks are such fun. However, registered ones are not as fun. Odo has limited me to only three faces. I didn't have to meet the Constable. Thank the gods. It's too much of a risk to see him face to face. His attention to detail would have been a threat.

Instead, this mask was issued to me by Kira. She entered our quarters. Then presented the item to me in a robotic tone of hardly caring if I wear the mask or am carried off by a Breen battalion. I expect such behavior. Ziyal tried to excuse the Major's behavior after her hasty departure.

"_Nerys wasn't too happy when my father told her that he wanted to send you with me. I think it has more to do with his lack of faith in her than having another Cardassian here." Her youthful visage strained to appear as kind. _

She's always doing that. Trying to be nice. Talking to me. At one point, within our first week, she had spooked me. I was sitting against the door frame of our quarters, waiting for any intruders. My ears and all other senses were doing the guarding. However, my mind was not there. I didn't think about guarding myself against an inside force.

I had her down on the ground before I could comprehend who it was.

Then I saw the flask next to her. The moist sheen of a Bajoran pear shining through her clenched fingers. My own hand was twisting her other limb and her voice busted out into crying.

She was trying to bring me refreshments.

After releasing her and eliciting a silent apology, I hid. Literally hid away. In the dismal room that had been decreed to be mine. I couldn't bear to see the terror and fear in her eyes because of me. She had been so afraid of me. It made me realize that everyone in my vicinity has been scared of me; I have lived like this for a very long time.

_I didn't want her to be afraid. Not of me._

Since then, we've taken our meals together in silence. A long glass table with designated ends for each of us. I sit closest to the door. No eye contact. That, of course, is a personal stipulation that I uphold. I know that she still tries to be friendly; even though I appear to not hear her.

"**Are you available for dinner tonight, Nerys?"**

Ziyal is currently right below my position. I don't have a visual on her because she is with the Bajoran Major. Although, by some odd blessing, all of my sensory lines still words on the station. The visual lines have faded in some areas but the auditory sensors are perfectly intact. This means that I can watch Ziyal from a distance. But as long as she is with Kira, I do not have concern for her safety.

_I do hope that Ziyal will dine with the Major, then I can rest._

The Major is silent.

My palm slides across blue railing. My paces are measured and I anticipate the Major's response.

"**No. I'm on duty tonight. But how is school? You haven't said too much about it."**

"**I like it."**

_She comes home from school more frustrated and depressed than before last. Don't believe her, Kira._

Thankfully, the Bajoran voice contains some doubt. **"It can be difficult changing places, Ziyal. First, you were on Cardassia with your father. Then on the freighter. Now, you're here on the station."**

"**I promise you that I am doing fine."** A brightly dressed Ferengi rushing by distracts me and I barely hear Ziyal until she goes on, **"Some days aren't as good as others but I am adjusting. The other students are usually kind but sometimes, I feel as though there is this gap between us."**

_A gap, Ziyal? How about an entire quadrant of differences-_

"**It's not because you are Cardassian and Bajoran, Ziyal-"**

"**No, it is that but it's not just that alone. It's also because of my father- Well, mainly because of my father."**

"**That may be so. But you shouldn't hold that against them. With some time, they will come to realize that you are not your father."**

"**When, Nerys? I have been here for almost two months and nothing has changed."**

No more listening. I turn away from the railed edge and stroll to the glass hull of the station. I just can't hear anymore of that. The lights above hardly shine against the glass. A light glare glimmers and makes the far-off star all the more bright. I would lose myself in these simple things but I can't block out the state of Ziyal.

In my lifetime, I have never lived in close quarters with another being. My years have always been kept private and separate. No one shares the time with me. I have not needed them to. I am a solitary actor in a large universe and I live as so.

But seeing this passive person try and fail everyday at finding a place in the worlds. I haven't even sought to do so. My place is by myself and without others. The location doesn't matter. Nor the civilization or the species. I suppose I am somewhat at peace in that way. I don't seek to belong and somehow she does. If only I could pass on my own social deficiency to her.

_I think I want to help her. Wonderful. Bloody wonderful._

Leaning as though seeking a certain orbit, I take up the audio feed again.

Nothing there but a chatty Starfleet officer.

I close my eyes and meander through the visuals. Inside of Quark's, I don't see her. The lower promenade flashes by and I see from corner to corner. After three more images, panic starts to set in.

_No hiding, Ziyal._

Walking at a hurried pace, I head to the only place that she has to be. If she isn't there, I might as well aim a phaser at my head.

-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-

She has been here. I stare at the door that leads to the sitting room where she is sitting on a couch reading a book. She hadn't even looked up when I entered. I could have been an assassin or any other sort of an intrusive character and she does absolutely nothing to ensure her safety.

Which is why I am walking out of this room right now. No uniform. No holo-mask. Only my civilian garb of a brown tunic and trousers.

She still doesn't meet my eye as I sit opposite of her. Lavender dress. Bajoran style, covering all the way up to the adjunction between neck and shoulder. Glossy hair piled on top of her head. Not a true black but a dark brown with golden highlights.

"You're not fine, Ziyal."

The room's echoes only reply to me and no one else.

"I heard what you said to the Major." I recline as if this were going to be a casual conversation. "You are not doing well on this station."

Finally, her glare comes alive. The impenetrable wall of passivity has fallen and now she stares down at the pad as though it could shatter into a thousand pieces if she wished. I need her to look at me though if there is going to be any reciprocity.

Perhaps, another strategy. "You are a wonderful student. We have covered the First and Second Hebitian society; you can name at least 50 artists from each period. Including a broad overview of their art and lives. You are excelling at your schooling in the Bajoran sector. Your academic record reveals no shortcomings. But you are very unhappy here."

Her book lays wasted beside her. "I miss my father."

"Of course, he is your family. We all miss our families."

I am only following my instincts on what to say. Comforting someone has never been a required skill. That is why I am unsure of what to say next. I do pray that she will just reveal everything and we can have it done with.

A pearl colored hand creeps up and covers dapper blue eyes. Tears may fall.

"It's more than that. Everywhere I go, people hate my father." Her fragility blends with lavender of her dress. "And it makes them hate me as well or feel pity for. I don't care, Raiec, about being popular or making friends."

_Is that so?_

"But it's the way they look at me-"

"Like you're a monster."

She looks up at me. Like I had awaken her from something deep and paralyzing. Yet, now I find that I am just as unable to express myself as she was. Only words can pass.

"I know, Ziyal. You looked as me the same way just a little while ago." Pink lips open and close in denial then acknowledgement. "I don't blame you. I shouldn't have laid hands on you, even if you did startle me. But you made me realize that during my entire career in the military, people have treated me as everyone is treating you."

"On the ship, the other officers said that you were a murderer."

"Do you think that I am a murderer?"

"I think that you have killed before." How child-like her honesty seems. "But I'm not sure if it was during war or for your ambition as the other officers said."

I hum through my nose. The sound could be seen as amusement but she understands that I am only thinking on my next words. Picking and passing over. Reviewing. Exploring the truth and finding ways to lead through it without the entanglements that may trap me.

I shift my legs up to lay on the chair. "Both. I won't lie about it. I have rid myself of competition and defended myself in battle. I am not a morally clean person, Ziyal, but it's what I've chosen."

The painting above her is Bajoran. I never noticed that the design was a maternal one. I had only studied about it in my early years. I follow the intricate patterns and keep my ears open.

"Do you regret what you've done?"

There are light blue insignias inside the lines. Prophet symbols. I lick my lips before speaking, "Sometimes. Most days, I feel nothing."

_Do I regret it?_

"What about the peoples' families?"

The center of the piece is a circle outline in squares. No, they are diamonds. Coral shaded around a tawny center. The effect is warming and safe. The maternity is within the painting.

_Do I regret it? I can't say._

I know why I have done all this. She must never know it. When someone only possesses half the story, does the story truly ever make sense? If they see a mountain in the dark, will they ever fully experience the giant that it is? However sometimes, in order to protect those that are good, we must keep them from those that are evil. Like her, like me.

She waits in her usual patient manner of watching through bright eyes and smooth features. The ridges on her shoulders are barely risen, like a newly sprung child's. No cleft in her sternum to denote her Cardassian lineage. Only small pebbled features and slightly gray countenance show her father's side. It could be this combination that makes her so innocent in my eyes.

The emotiveness of her gentleness may be the only reason that I am answering this.

"I can't say. I didn't think about that when I did the things I did. I wanted something and there was only one way to get it."

She has trouble understanding this. Of course, it makes little sense to myself. It's not supposed to be comprehensible.

"But why didn't you? Why don't you feel bad?"

I need to close my eyes. Forget who I am talking to. As if I were talking to myself.

"The mind is the strongest part of yourself. Your heart is the weakest, truly. Emotionally and physically. The soul-"

The three that created me spring up in my darkened vision. "The soul is the most impressionable; it will scar beyond all recognition."

Hastily, I add in softness. "But Ziyal, this is not the answer that your father will give. We are both soldiers for the Cardassian Empire and we perform different duties. I am a Dalin. He is a Gul.

"His career is one of command and government. Mine is warfare and strategy. I have no desire to take command of a ship or to detail a government policy."

Small lines surround the horizontal lines across the bridge of her nose. "I know that. It's just that-" She searches me for something. "You both give such different explanations. He says that what he did during the Occupation was to help Cardassia and Bajor. You don't have any reason except that you wanted it. He tries to make it so that I understand him and he asked for forgiveness. You don't. You don't want to be forgiven or understood."

Eyes still shut. Even tighter than before. But my closed eyes won't block her from getting into my head.

"Perhaps, your father is trying to change who he is. Maybe he wants to be a better person-"

A streak of a dour Dresik crosses my vision as she speaks. "Don't you want that?"

_Don't let her break you. Give up or give in but use it to your advan-_

No. I'm not listening to orders anymore. I can't. I actually cannot ruin this young girl. What trait is it of hers that makes everything feel so important, so new, and so alive? When did coming and going without a word become beyond enduring? Why must I explain myself to her? She has only shown a little kindness and I-

_When was the last time that someone was kind to you? Touched you without hate or lust? Even more, not afraid to touch you or speak to you without fear._

I barely reply to the profound musings of my hysteria-induced projection of Dresik. Inside my head, I whisper to him, _Not since Garak._

With that, he disappears with a nod of satisfaction.

"I want-" Her face appears even more cherubic as I face her without confusion. "I never knew what I wanted. No one ever told me that being a good person was worthwhile. So, I never tried. But I don't enjoy hurting people, Ziyal; it's just that's what I'm good at. I've always been good at it."

For a second, it's as though she breathed in my words. They seem to pass through her lungs and she is living through them in a way that I can't comprehend. Irises darken with severe contemplation. Then, what I had tried to avoid, a tone of immature aging lines her voice.

"Maybe you should try other things."

And as I watch her, she floats away. No standing or rising. Ziyal possesses a grace that would be impossible to mimic. I couldn't replicate the same effortlessness in movement. Maybe in battle but not in a casual form. She heads towards her room at the opposite end of the space. I stare down at the small table she passes and wonder if she will ever be able to smile or attempt petty conversations again.

_I shouldn't have said so much._

"Dalin."

From an opened doorway, she hangs off the side frame. A child once again.

"I understand you. I understand you even more than I understand my father. Maybe, if there's time in between the lessons and the watching; you could be my friend."

With only a repressed grin, she slides into her side of the quarters.

I return to mine and begin counting the risks of having something that I've never had in my life.

A friend.

**AN: Teaser! Teaser!**

8#8#8#8#8#8#8#8#8#8#8#8

The box was hidden under an overturned hospital bed. He had found it within moments of entering the room. He can't explain why it was so effortless to pull up the cot and reveal the object of his want but it was. It was so quick. It had to be.

The rubble on the streets did not deter him entering the abandoned hospital. His polished boots were not kept in careful steps so as not to let the dust rise from the ash covered floors and cover the toes. They had kicked up the dust and welcomed it through a pace of frantic running.

This was the hospital that she had escaped from. There was only one escapee listed in this city and it was an unknown female. Found trapped under the collapsed security building that held the positioning field for the entire planet. No one connected her location with being involved in the Dominion's difficulty in locking on its targets. No one saw that she might have been the one that they whispered about on the streets and was hunted by the Jem H'dar. No one recognized "her."

She had counted on that. That's why she left it here. The only evidence of her activities.

But he holds it in his hand. It is precious and irreplaceable. It is her only link to freedom. She wouldn't take it but he will.

The steel box opens with his lifting the top. Inside, one could miss the black cloth. The only detail that gives it away is the silver thread that waves the Cardassian emblem. No other agent was given a cloth like this. Only "her."

The Cardassian officer doesn't touch it. He can't contaminate it. It can not be tarnished. She needs it; even if she won't admit it.

"Sir?"

The juvenile Cardassian Gorr that had accompanied him stands alone in the threshold of the wrecked room. The twisted metal suggests failure of support but it holds all the same. The older Cardassian shuts the box and gestures for the boy to come forward.

"Take this to Ambassador Garak. Tell him and only him that he needs to scan it then compare the DNA with Gul Entek's. Do not tell him who sent it."

"Yes, sir."

The officer numbly bows before him then races off with the box under his arm.

The Glinn examines what is left around him and prays that it will save his daughter. Someone has to fight for her. He, Dresik Yaval, will. Even if it is too late.


	35. A Lesson Unlearned and Learned

**Chapter 35**

**A Lesson Unlearned and Learned**

Every day has become a challenge for her. I can see it in her countenance. Every morning is spent with a smile and a conversation ready for me. I prepare our breakfasts and she shares the "good morning's" of a young Cardassian woman with busy plans.

I respond much more warmly than I did before. I do spend time and words with her. Days, in the early hours, with our meals and lessons about Cardassia. Then throughout the day, I keep behind her and make sure that she is within a safe reach. Nights are treated as opportunities for furthering our friendship. I listen carefully to the stories that Ziyal tells. The students that greet her or snub her. Bajorans who stare too much while she prays in the temple. The things that Major Kira tells her about the Occupation; I intercede only when Cardassia is in need of defending.

In actuality, Kira's viewpoint of the Occupation fascinates me. I never imagined what was going through the Bajorans' minds as so conflicting. Some saw the Cardassians as misled or ignorant. Most were quite hostile; as I have experienced. The only difficulty I find in hearing about Kira's experiences are when Ziyal asks me about my own.

I tell her what I know. I tell her about what _should_ have been my life.

According to what my military record is holding at the moment. As a Gorr, I was a security officer in a civilian prison on Bajor. My time at the prison was brief because of heightened hostilities between the Bajoran Resistance and Central Command; within a short period, I was stationed to another province. From there, my duties became that of Garresh and I was stationed on a military freighter.

Until I was made Dalin through a series of rather unfortunate incidents with my higher ranking officers. Then the Dalin Sk'eth. Then Dukat and now Ziyal. Of course, I skipped over these rather revealing facts about my past.

Everything appears so simple.

Underneath though it is not.

lOlOlOlOlOlOlOlOlOlOl

The colors of the jumja stick bob against the radiance of her shimmering gown. Candy red against Earth grape purple with a line of lavender. Her slender fingers hold onto the popsicles with a beaming smile. I stare at her scampering around the Bolian shop and begin to rise from my table.

I had been waiting for her school to disperse. Silly girl must have slipped past me. I watched the other students leave and go on their business. I didn't believe that she would try to avoid me; we've been getting along so well.

We're friends.

_So she keeps repeating._

I cross the few yards between shops and bustling customers. A step backwards to avoid a merchant. Slanted eyes to show all sense of disinterest. My human face in place to evade suspicion. No one minds that a young human woman in cargo clothes is walking right up to the daughter of Gul Dukat.

Before she can pick up on my approach; I stand next to her. A box of Dilavian chocolates in her eyes' reflection. The smile hasn't even faltered as she decides on a price.

"I hope that you were buying those jumja sticks for me."

I don't bother to prepare her for any disruption. Even though she looks positively pleased that I am here.

A small laugh makes her persona shine even more. "You caught up to me. I was hoping that you would wait at home."

"I never stay in our quarters. You know that."

"You worry too much." One of the sticks drips its sweet juice across her hand. Immediately, she licks at the spot before resuming. "You know that I am teasing you. I just wanted to say thank you for the dress you bought me yesterday."

I shake my head in dismissal of her gratitude. Then I grin back because it is a kind gesture. "Perhaps, you should let me have my jumja stick. You might spill some on your new dress."

Ziyal passes it to me. I take a small bite. I feel her watching my expression.

"It's good. Thank you." I tip the dessert in honor of her actions. "Now let us return home."

It is a day for strolling. The tempo of our lives is not pushing us from place to place. There is no strict schedule in place. Everything is temporarily on hold for the enjoyment of a walk home. The quiet colors of the promenade mixes with the blasting of its inhabitants. A contradiction that only two Cardassian girls could revel in and consider to be a haven.

"You are so happy." I say in observation of her glow. The jumja sticks only add to it. "What happened? You passed your last test, the one on the Bajoran military history?"

As though we were playing a game of teasing, the seashell sheen of her skin blushes. "No. I mean I did pass with the highest marks but that's not why I'm smiling."

Taking another taste of sweetness, I watch her prepare diligently.

Breath. Eat. Search around the landscape of the station for courage. Then she readies herself.

"There's another Cardassian on the station."

My face is incapable of actually expressing everything that is in me as I hear her. How does one express the most conflicting of emotions without seeming insane? None it stops me from remaining unsurprised though in the face of this.

"Elim Garak."

Ziyal stops our walk and chides me in a precocious tone. "You knew? Why didn't you tell me? Nerys knew as well but she said that there wasn't any point in telling me."

"And she's right." My jumja stick drips red down onto the carpet. "I'm sure that your father and her have spoken about why this course of action has been for the best."

I seize another drop before it can fall. The cold blast of Bolian dessert has me turning away from her and continuing before she can reply. The stars wave at me through the station's glass and I find myself counting them in distraction. Until my curiosity gets the better of me.

"How did you even find out about him?"

Ducking her head shyly, Ziyal catches up from her own detour behind me. "I saw him and Dr. Bashir having lunch-"

"Did he see you?" I become more forceful at the sight of a threat on the horizon.

Her hair ornaments twinkle silvery blue against the environmental beams. "No. I was on the upper level of Quark's and they were on the bottom."

"Good. That may be for the best."

I reassure myself that all of this is done for safety. Not for my own feeling of being threatened or afraid. It's all for her. It has to be.

_Isn't it?_

I leave her standing there like a mime caught in its own act. I wait for the click of her heels against soft carpet but the lack of this stops me. Only her hurting reaches me through railed words.

"Raiec, you're treating me like a child."

The smell of cinnamon cooking from one of the shops below adds an air of bitter sweetness to our predicament. "I'm sorry, Ziyal but Garak is a plausible threat to your well-being. Believe me."

The forgotten jumja stick stays in her hand. No more sweet candy on it. Only a wasted skeleton of a stick. She waves it around unknowingly as she glares at me with disbelief. Fighting against my own displeasure with her attitude, I take another route at getting Garak off her mind.

"Why do you even care if there's another Cardassian on board?"

"Just a change of company, Raiec. He's Cardassian."

"We're friends and we're both Cardassian. We do a lot of things together. Holosuites, shopping, meals-"

Then I see it. What she doesn't want to say. Although I know that she will find a way of saying it without appearing cruel. She is Gul Dukat's daughter after all. People pass us and don't bother staring so openly but we both know there are watching.

With no one currently walking by, she speaks on cue to me in a direct and honest way. "We do have a lot of time together and I love it. But you're my only friend."

"The Major is not your friend?"

_Weak argument._

"She is but she's very busy and I only see her at the end of the week."

_Come on, Dalin. Think very hard._

My mind pushes about faces and names until it reaches the one I seek. "That one Bajoran boy who is always bothering you. He's a friend."

Ziyal laughs at me as though I were crazed beyond repair. "Phiren only wants to talk about the Prophets. He only talks to me because I am the only one that doesn't get annoyed by it."

_That's it. I am out of excuses._

"Raiec, when we go out, you are always masked."

I want to come to the most selfish and easiest conclusions for her feelings. I don't want to admit that I am not enough of a companion for her. No, it is worst. I don't want to see that there is perhaps as many differences between one another as there are between her and the other Bajorans. This space that is between us, as I had assumed, is not merely one of respect and duty.

It is our own natures that are so different.

"I am your teacher. I am your friend. I am also a soldier who has their duty to protect you. Part of that requires me to remain unknown to the station." I touch the face of the holo-mask and grimace at the sensation of neurons against my hand. "If it were known that a Cardassian soldier is on the station while things are so unsettled-"

"I understand, Raiec." Her eyes are fluttering franticly. "I don't mean to make you worry. I was just so excited to see another Cardassian. I didn't realize how much I miss Cardassia; even if it was not so kind to me."

"I know. I feel the same."

It is not much to confess to one another. It is a fact. Like the existence of the Founders or the Bajoran Occupation. It does not go away and can not be assuaged.

"But I also have a question for you."

My pulse tightens up. "Yes?"

"Father has mentioned this Elim Garak before. He told me that he was on the station."

She walks past me. Her voice stays behind and she barely edges by. "But I must have not taken it seriously because I was taken by surprise. So, I asked Nerys about Garak and she told me the same as my father. That Garak once served the Obsidian Order."

I nod and think quietly.

_Served Tain. Quite the difference._

"He has killed many people. Including my grandfather."

Once again, I confirm her words without a change in demeanor.

"That he wouldn't even stop for a second in killing me."

The way she so openly cups the words to me. Like a prayer or a song. The threat against her life is not real to her at all. Ziyal has faced death many times and still, somehow, she is unable to comprehend what her fate may be meant to suffer.

_I must make her believe it. I must make her see it._

I drop my gaze to her knees. Gestures like this always catch her attention. She is incorrigible.

"You remember that time that you had asked to see me in combat?"

I don't need to look at her to know that she is answering me.

I don't even have to stop to ask her to follow me. Already, I am several strides ahead her and she rushing to catch me. I doubt she can even hear my whisper.

"You get your wish today."

Ziyal knows the rules.

_Stay outside the arena. Do not speak until I am through. Do not be afraid._

I warned her explicitly of what she would see.

Like any other teenager, she pretended to know all. As though she has smelt blood fresh from a wound and knows the sensation of it drying on her skin. The dread of being driven into a corner with the only chance of survival being to rush into certain death. To have no mercy once an enemy is on their knees because they will only do the same.

She knows the rules but she doesn't know war.

_I am going to show her._

What I need for her to understand doesn't require a classroom, but a holo-suite. Yes, I had traipsed through Quark's and by luck, one suite was open. I plopped down my latinum and warned the Ferengi not to disturb me for the next 30 minutes.

He wholeheartedly pledged to follow my instructions.

After a blade was flashed from the inside of my cloak.

Ziyal, of course, was not amused. She huffed at my actions but followed me upstairs nonetheless. I worried that she would decide not to come. Yet, I know that she has always seen something in warfare. A surreal sort of beauty, perhaps. Her admiration for her father might have led her to look further into the act for something more.

I can't imagine why anyone would see war as a piece of art.

The program was ready before we entered the chamber. Very basic settings. A sky that cannot decide between weeping and smiling. Black sand held in a concrete pad. It lays hollowed in a circle. The only show of life is ourselves and a wind that is only sweeping the hair off our necks.

"This is it?"

There's no arrogance in her tone. I am still annoyed by the question though.

Quickly, I dismantle the holo-mask before grumbling, "I said to not speak. Just watch."

Without a human face to scrutinize, her Cardassian features look at me for some sign of humor. Eventually, her stare breaks and she realizes that I am not joking. I don't wait for more answers.

The cloak drops to the ground. Then my blade. A sound cuts off from her before she can control it.

I try to subdue her worry. "You need to realize what we are capable of with and without weapons. Phasers are clean. Too clean. Knives can be the same if you have someone that knows how to handle them."

Stepping onto the sand, my boots sink enough to warn me of the disadvantage. I circle the area and prepare. It is not for battle but for the education. I am still her teacher and her friend. I want her to be aware of what may happen and to be prepared for it.

"Computer, safety controls off." I stand ready before deciding. "Opponent 17."

A Bajoran woman materializes. Her face is unimportant as are all other details. She is only a shadow set against me. Without any count, she is at me.

The movements of the holo-warrior feel slow. The strength feebled down to tiny stretches of tendons pulling across bone if she were flesh and blood. I can't decide how this lesson should be drawn out.

I move. I do not dodge or duck. It is of no use to me. So, I move.

The long reach of the Bajoran wants me. Around my neck and snapping it. Pulling my wrist back until a crack is played. Yet, I evade it all. Then that moment comes forth.

Checking on Ziyal.

She's mesmerized and lost to it all. She doesn't know that I can end it so fast.

I will have to show her.

I allow myself to be taken into the hologram's hold. A hand covers my face and I know the chosen course of death. Suffocation. Covered eyes and a forearm shoved under my chin. Immediately, she squeezes and I feel that all too sudden sense of oxygen deprivation.

But war floods into my veins. Instincts tell me, direct me and take over. I no longer think about what should or needs to be done.

Twist. Elbow. Knee to solar plexus. Palm smashes nose. Our positions are switched.

I sit on top of her chest and wrap my fingers around her throat. Her trachea is on the verge of collapsing beneath my thumbs. The only thing I concentrate on is the speeding up of her breathing and frantic struggling.

She's choking. She's yelling. She's fighting for her life.

Then it stops.

It's not the same as an actual being. I know this. No smell. No foaming around the mouth or spittle across the chin. Bruising won't be found around her broken neck and the trachea is sunken in as if it were meant to be.

_An unnatural kill. _

Before I can form another comment, something important comes into view.

_Ziyal._

Her small limbs crawl over each other and grasp the edges of her clothes. She stares down at me like she has never seen me before. Eyes of ocean stand out in this holo-desert and I find myself wondering if I may have gone too far.

My lips wet themselves in nervousness at her silence.

My breath is all that I can give to her.

I tell myself that she needed to see this. Ziyal won't survive until she understands.

"Raiec."

How her expression screams at me as her voice whispers. Her mouth sets itself in an ugly shape that tears through me. I stand up from the corpse of electron and protons.

"Garak could kill you with the same ease," I walk to her with hands folded together. "He could poison you. Shoot you. Set a bomb inside the quarters. Or do what I have just done."

Ziyal settles against me and I hold the entirety of her to me. Her fear. Her disgust. Her sorrow. I sink it into myself and try to heal what I have injured. I can't explain the reason but I can not have her lost.

It is acceptable if I am scarred beyond recognition. Inside and out. I am set in this. What I can not have is her suffering the same as me.

"I didn't do this to scare you. You shouldn't be afraid. Nothing will harm you when I am with you." Her tear seeps through the fabric of my shoulder. "Not even Garak. But whatever you decide, I cannot let you do it unless you know."

"You are not against me being in communication with Garak?"

My heart wants to answer no. My mind indefinitely wants me tell her not to do it. The soul though knows otherwise and doesn't reply so quickly.

Ziyal glances at me through wet lashes. "You will watch while I interact with him?"

I hold her a little tighter. She snuggles like a young pet and for a moment, the action frightens me. I am closed around her, yet open. Her scent mingles with mine. Dear to me and not expendable in any way.

"I will always be here for you when you need me, Ziyal. Garak or no Garak."

And so she forgives me.

She laughs.


	36. Another Chapter

**Another Chapter**

Perfect in every way.

The stroll. The candor in the conversation. The striking distance between them. Ideal.

_I don't remember being that way with Garak._

Ziyal asked me to style her hair and now I do so every morning. We haggle over her choice of dress. I tell her to wear an elegant sky blue cut. Her complaint was that it was a Bajoran cut and not a Cardassian one.

Already, she sees how Garak clings to Cardassian fashion. Even if he is a bit unorthodox. Although she enjoys every moment with him. They complain over the same things. Discuss, debate, and reconcile over subjects that expand from politics within the Federation to the efficiency of Constable Odo's observation skills.

Garak always waves to Ziyal on her way to school. Her reaction is a daily repeat. Upturned shy lips and a tiny raising of pearl-skinned hand.

_And I am dismissed as another schoolmate. Merely accompanying her._

But he is a part of her life now. Over the past year, he has become as close to her as I am. I hadn't counted on that. I watched it happen, though on many occasions, I considered crushing it.

Ziyal's life has changed dramatically. She claims to be "fond" of Garak. I had quickly mentioned how fondness often grows into something else. Something much more serious.

However, Garak's reaction might surpass my own.

Ziyal informed me only moments ago that she planned on telling Garak that he is the sole recipient of her affection. I had listened and nodded. I told her that I understood everything that she was experiencing and that perhaps she should wait.

Of course, she ignored my advice. Labeled me in mockery as "overly cautious and worried."

So I am watching her. One hand on a phaser in my bag. The other is around an Uytil tea.

I am holding watch in Quark's bar. Their round table is set up with waiters teeming around them with tasty delicacies. My own seating arrangements are far less glamorous; I sit alone against the wall. It's another one of their late night dinners.

Both of them are terrible insomniacs and can never seem to sleep without a full stomach.

Ziyal only acknowledged my presence once before they were seated. The devilish expression on her face spoke of only one thing. Her anticipation.

_Please, Ziyal. Don't be foolish._

I wait for their table to be abandoned. They never actually speak unless there are no distractions. In Cardassian terms, it's a very respectful gesture. A showing of wanting only to hear and experience only each other's company.

"My dear, your dress is quite stunning. Please give my compliments to your tailor." Garak tips his glass to Ziyal and marks the first compliment of the evening.

Her fingers touch the black collar. "There may be some difficulties with that. He is much too gracious for compliments."

"Believe me, he would be far more receiving than you would assume."

"In that case, do you think that he would accept an invite to dinner?"

A personal light that only a well-said comment could bring appears in Garak's demeanor. "Undoubtedly. He already has."

How they play together. Bantering and laughing. I am no more than background to them but even the walls have ears. I have much more than that and in a small way, I curse the fact.

I am happy that she is happy. I am pleased that he has found someone to pass his sentence with. However I am not delighted with my current situation.

I haven't told Ziyal that she is going to be very heartbroken. I know that Garak is leaving the station to chase a ghost message. I happened to "overhear" what happened two days ago on the promenade. A message from deep in Dominion space has the bearing of a Cardassian tracer.

_And of course, Garak recognizes it as one from Enabran Tain._

My suspicion is that Garak has invited our young friend to break the news to her. I only hope that he does so with far greater grace than he had while trying to steal the runabout. I understand that Dr. Bashir hardly even had to attempt any sort of interference before Garak gave in.

"Ziyal, I had hoped to discuss something of some importance."

The aquamarine eyes speculate with a small nod.

"Quite recently, we have come upon a message. A link that may or may not confirm the death of Enabrin Tain." Difficulty twists itself in his voice but his sight never falters. "I will depart tomorrow morning for the Gamma Quadrant.

"The Gamma Quadrant?" Terrified and horrified all at once, the beautiful visage turns paler. "You can't go to the Gamma Quadrant."

"I can and I will." He is making himself strong for her. "I have to."

To know the worry and hurt that is going through her is my experience in this conversation. I can sympathize and empathize. It is no easy feat to sit in front of someone we care for and not do everything within our power to stop them from leaving us.

Ziyal shakes her as though it can clear her own fears away. "But if something were to happen to you, I don't know what I'd do."

My tea is cooling down and finally I sip at the overly sweet-root tea. Somehow, within these circumstances, it is hardly enjoyable. An inkling of what she is hinting at has shown. He diffuses the situation by playing it as though it is no more than company they share

"Oh, I'm sure you could find someone else to eat your meals with. Not that you'll have to. I fully intend to return." The smile is chipper but the countenance is reminiscent of an Earth funeral.

I try to imagine what a world without Garak would be for my current stature. He thinks I am dead and that may be the cruelest joke of the universe. For him to assume that I am gone while I standby and watch him die during a pointless quest. Everything would be turned upside down and I would have never taken the chance to set it right. For a second, I doubt why I remain sitting here and not with him.

Until I hear Ziyal. "It's not just the meals." She shakes her head at him as though he had completely misinterpreted everything that she had ever told him.

"I know. I'm the only other Cardassian on the station."

She repeats the same incredulous look and action of negating his words. "It's not that either. And you know it. It's just that you're intelligent and cultured and kind."

On the outside, I am staring down at the Jongo table. On the inside, I am hoping that he will give in to her. Perhaps, she is much too young for him and much too innocent on that note. However she cares and her gift is that she makes everyone else care. Even people like Garak and myself.

"My dear, you're young. So, I realize you're a poor judge of character." Then again, this is Garak that we are talking about. I try to refrain from throwing the remnants of my tea on him. I don't believe that Ziyal would forgive me for interrupting.

"Why do you always make fun of my feelings for you?"

He gives her a look over her childish petulance. "Perhaps, because I find them a touch misguided."

"If that's what you think, why do you spend so much time with me?" Hearing the hurt in her voice hits me deep inside and as I glance their way; I can see that Garak is just as affected.

"Because I'm exiled." And there is that openness that can only be precious because it is from such a solitary being like Garak. "Alone. And a long way from home. And when I'm with you, it doesn't seem so bad."

She is pleased by hearing such things. I watch her lean slightly towards him and their hands join together.

"I'm glad I can help."

Then I see it. The part about Garak that can make anyone genuinely feel for him; his sincerity. "Ziyal, no matter what happens, no matter how bleak things might look, I promise you. I will come back. I give you my word."

"I believe you."

I have to admit it now even if I never have the opportunity in the future. I have to take the moment and confess it to myself. They fit together. I may have been an ideal choice because of the darkness within my soul but she is brilliant for him. I couldn't have chosen better for Garak.

They are so lost in each other's gazes and I am so lost in the hopelessness of my own predicament that I completely ignore everything else. And in walks the nightmare that I have always hoped to avoid.

Cardassian gray armor. Tall and angrily stomping towards them.

"Take your hands off her."

Dukat.

With one hand still on my phaser, I watch my commander wrench Garak out of his chair without any show of difficulty. He drags the squirming agent to the rail and dangles him over the edge. For a moment, I don't know which one I am more likely to fire upon.

But the smallest order is given and I could never surmise how Dukat knows that I will be able to understand what he wants. He leans his head away from the scene and it would take someone who has served under his command to know that he means to clear the area.

Now.

Without a glance back, I stream through the gathering crowd and I know that no one even notices. With each step taking me away from there, I only pray that Garak is at least able to make it out alive for his journey tomorrow. He may find more than he had expected and that is just a hunch on my part.


End file.
